Beacon Hills: Ye Olde Bridewell
by Keeper Write
Summary: Marina Pond is one of the lucky few werewolves that can fly under the wolf radar. The other kids? They don't even understand the meaning of the word "discrete." As a true Alpha, how is she going to handle what junior year brews? Lacrosse, assassins, parties, the benefactor, a job and school work all seem to pile up. OC/Liam, Rated T for strong language.
1. Chapter 1: Prima Donnas of the Gutter

**_A/N: Just a warning, I am not too focused on editing this story so you might just find a few grammatical errors here and there. If you notice something you think I should definitely fix, please let me know. Favourite if you like the story, follow if you want to read more and review if you have a heart. If you've got any advice or any requests on where the plot should go, leave me a review and let me know!_**

**_Here, -throws brick-, dude, why didn't you catch that disclaimer? _**

* * *

_Beacon Hills is literally a beacon for the supernatural_, I know that now. I'm one of the lucky few that can fly under the wolf radar. The other kids? They don't even understand the meaning of the word "_discrete_." It's a wonder that all of Beacon County doesn't know that Scott McCall is a werewolf, I mean you could probably hear that kid "whisper" from twenty feet away. I knew right away that he was bitten when he started doing Olympic-level gymnastics in lacrosse games, I'm surprised even Derek didn't tell him to tone it down. That's right, I know about Derek and Peter too. And Kira, Malia, Lydia, and Jackson. Even what happened with that dramatic pack of alphas in town and all of those things that happened back in freshman and sophomore year. Oh, and all that jazz about Stiles getting possessed. I am very much aware of the events that go down in Beacon Hills.

I moved here in 8th grade, just after I was bitten, along with my grandparents. Like I said, I've been flying under the radar ever since. When Kira moved here, we got along right away but I made note of avoiding hanging around Scott and his pack. I am a True Alpha, after all, and I have no idea what the outcome of befriending another True Alpha would be. If I ended up as a part of his pack, there is every possibility that I could turn back into a beta. Besides, at the time I had a pack and they warned me about all the bat shit crazy things these guys recklessly do.

I had a pack, Demarco, Carrie, all of them were like another family to me. Unfortunately the Alpha and I didn't see eye to eye on a lot of things, I could've left as an omega and turned a blind eye but that's not my style. He didn't tell the rest of the pack, but I found out the Alpha was giving fresh bodies to the Walcott family (Wendigo's, those creepy mother fuckers). There was no way I could've killed my Alpha, he meant the world to me. Long story short, he's still the Alpha of the pack but I definitely_ earned_ my title as an Alpha.

Anyways, as reluctant as I am to go anywhere near Scott McCall, I have to keep my eye on him because Kira is my friend and I can't allow her to endure all this crazy shit alone.

And just like that, Kira starts rapid texting me while I sit in Pre Calculus, not even waiting for a reply. She's 16, moved to a school where people are_ very much_ like her, made good friends, made _really_ good friends (yes Scott, I'm talking about you) and now she's just found out that she's supposed to move to New York. I let her angsty mind bitch about how much she hates her parents right now and fight the urge to remind her that at least she has parents.

* * *

Once the bell rings I take my time getting my books from my locker because literally no one is ever on time for Biology, and on my way to class I see Kira standing by Scott's locker, looking dazed and confused.

"What the fuck.." I hesitate, "Kira?" Her pulse is beating so quick. "What happened, did you tell Scott you're moving, what did he say?"

Kira shakes her head vigorously while staring at me with wide eyes as she clutches her binder with a death grip so tight it turns her knuckles white. "I'm gonna have to wait until after try outs." She finally says. I manage to coax her into walking to Biology with me and she pours her words out along with despair.

"It was a kiss, but it wasn't a kiss." She says. I nod, signalling for her to continue. "It was the kind of kiss you would give your grandmother."

"I am physically wincing ugh that sounds so bad!" I say, not helping whatsoever.

Entering Biology ten minutes after the bell, we see Mr. Simon typing away at his computer in the front corner of the class with six (probably now empty) cups of Starbucks coffee. Only nine other students are seated in the class and they all talk amongst themselves. For the next fifteen minutes or so while students slowly pour into the class, Kira fills me in on all the family-murdering-axe-murderer business, though I don't tell her I already know. Kira is literally the only person in all of Beacon Hills that knows I'm a werewolf and that's only because I chose to tell her after she confessed to being a kitsune. I figured that if she trusts me enough to tell me the truth (even though I actually knew) that she deserved my trust as well. Don't get me wrong, there's probably quite a few supernatural beings in Beacon Hills that I am unaware of, I'm sure I'm not the only one that can mask a scent. Mr. Simon lets us use the last block of the day to "study" (most likely because he didn't have an actual lesson planned), and before I know it I'm outside wedged between Malia and Kira waiting for the open tryouts to begin. On my left, Malia has a go at trying to understand Pre Calculus while to the right Kira strains herself from having a freaking heart attack.

"Don't worry, Kira. I'm sure you two will sort this out, he probably feels really embarrassed about it," I assure her only to get no response. Guys are just beginning to pour out onto the field in gear.

"I'm tempted to get out there myself," I mumble.

"You play lacrosse?" Malia asks with a highlighter between her teeth.

I answer with a shrug, "Nah, I'm a football or hockey kind of person, lacrosse sounds too prissy,"

"True that," She agrees. We both notice Kira shaking her leg vigorously as she stares at the field.

"What's wrong with you?" Malia asks her, putting her highlighter away.

"Me?" Kira says suspiciously, "Nothing!"

"You reek of anxiety, and it's distracting," Malia says matter-of-factually, "What's going on?"

With a sigh, Kira spills out her words. "Scott and I sort of had this thing happen, but it wasn't much of a thing. Now I'm starting to think it never was anything.. at all."

Malia asks, "What do you want it to be?"

"More." Kira replies with her big sad puppy eyes. The conversation dies there and I blurt out what's on my mind.

"What are we doing?" I say aloud. Malia and Kira both stare at me, confused. "Why are we sitting on the benches?"

"Because we're waiting for Scott and Stiles to finish tryouts?" Kira answers dubiously.

"And why the hell are we doing that? Let's go try out ourselves." I suggest. They stare at me for a moment, contemplating my suggestion.

"I'm down." Says Malia, "It's better than Pre Calculus,"

"Amen to that," I mumble. "Kira?"

"Nah, I'm good. Don't have spare clothes or anything, so maybe tomorrow. Tryouts last a few days, right?"

"Alright, I get it." I say, raising my hands. Malia and I leave Kira on the benches to wallow in her anxiety (in hindsight, not the best idea I've had). Sitting on the benches just drives me crazy so we run to the locker rooms and change into our gym clothes, I throw on some sweatpants and a baggy long-sleeved shirt and we run back to the field in some padded gear with sticks in our hands and helmets on our heads.

"Let the tryouts begin!" Coach shouts out, waving his arms dramatically just as we join the line formed in front of the goalpost. Everyone shoots but that god damn goalie, _Liam_, gets every shot. Stiles sends a good throw but Liam catches it, Scott's throw, however, is way off and it ricochets off the post into the other direction. A few people laugh obnoxiously, including some of the new freshmen. Malia goes next, I can tell she's careful about using her powers but she shoots with great precision that Liam misses. Everyone on the benches goes wild and she beams at me with her radiant smile.

Next is my turn. The stick feels comfortable in my hands, and to my surprise I don't fumble at all. I run forward and shoot in the upper right hand corner and Liam anticipates this. At the last second, time seems to slow down so I adjust my stick and shoot at the lower left corner of the net. I hear cheering- people scream, shout, chant, and clap from the benches as what just happened registers. I scored? But Scott McCall couldn't score.

Coach Finstock is loving Malia and I, though I don't think he recognizes us with our helmets. For the better, we keep them on. "Who the hell are those two?!" He shouts out over the crowds. Kira gives him our names, sort of. She points to Malia, saying, "That one's Tate," then she points to me and says, "And that's Pond."


	2. Chapter 2: The Fear of Falling Apart

"Somebody ask her if she's ever played lacrosse!" Finstock wheezes out as he falls to the ground, clutching his abdomen. Looks like Kira's joining the team too. Since the initiation of tryouts, Scott seriously injured Liam and as he and Stiles rushed him to the nurse, Coach Finstock threw a ball in frustration at the bleachers. Kira caught the ball with agility and saved a freshman's petrified face. After the tryouts, I showered and changed back into my clothes- a white muscle tank with my favourite band's logo, black tights, and grey ankle boots. Kira speaks with Scott as Malia speaks with Stiles, poor Liam was to be taken to the hospital. I find myself in the school parking lot, getting into my Chevrolet when my ringtone, also my favourite song, starts playing from my pocket. Pulling it out, the caller ID says "Ye Olde Folks." With a smile, I answer the phone.

"Marina?" My grandpa says through the line.

"Yo, gramps." I say jokingly through a grin. "Everything alright?"

"I was about to ask the same," He says seriously.

"Oh!" I cry out, slapping my forehead. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to call,"

"Oh, don't worry. We figured you were out with friends, but I just wanted to be sure."

"Alright, well, I'm in my car right no-"

"What?! Are you on your phone while driving?" He asks.

Through a laugh, I answer, "I'll be there in a few minutes." and hang up. I pull out of the parking lot and head towards home, but when I turn the radio on a pop band blares peppy music at me. With a sigh, I switch to the CD setting and insert a mixed tape I made a few days back with songs from all my favourite bands. I drive in the direction of the blinding sun and reach to pull out my aviators. While doing so, I almost hit a police car parked half on the side-gravel and half on the road in front of the Walcott's house. Thankfully, the officer wasn't inside the car. You would think the police wouldn't be so irresponsible, for fucksake. Okay, I'll admit that may have partly been my fault..

At home, grandma sits on our large couch as she reads a book and grandpa squints through his thick glasses as he watches a soccer game on a recliner.

"Rina, sweetheart, did you have fun?" My grandma asks from the couch with Nabhu, one of our dogs, who is pretending to be asleep on her lap. At her feet, Makai and Alu fight over a toy. Nabhu is a black pug and rather fond of anyone who presents her with food. While Makai, a jack russell, and Alu, a bull-dog, make you work for their trust. I've had all three of them for almost a year. Nabhu is a word in Hindi for lemon, while Makai means corn and Alu means potato. Fitting for their personalities. Nabhu is sour until you present her with treats, Makai appears to be harmless but can bite pretty hard (hence a hard-core) and Alu.. well, he sits around all day like a potato.

I take a seat next to her and Nabhu moves onto my lap, back into her sleeping position. "Yes. I did." I say, sounding surprised. Grandpa shifts his attention from the T.V. to me, raising an eyebrow.

With a sigh, I say, "I was trying out for the lacrosse team."

I was expecting to be bombarded by my grandpa with things like 'lacrosse is such a tough sport.' or 'wouldn't you rather be a cheerleader?' but instead, he said, "Lacrosse? I thought only prissy french kids play that." To this, my grandma snorted.

"I played lacrosse, Richard!" She says through a smile, "What are you trying to say?" I can't help but laugh at my grandparents. "Well, are you any good?" Grandma asks.

"Good?" Grandpa says, "She's probably better than good!"

"Ooh, I wouldn't say that," I squeeze in modestly.

"Any grand-daughter of mine must be phenomenal!" He insists.

We sit like that for a while, bickering and joking with each other until someone's stomach rumbles. I make dinner, partly because I don't want them to strain themselves and partly because I was craving chicken. Some chicken breasts, tomatoes and grams of cheese later, I set dinner out on the table. I'm not sure if it's because I'm just a teenager, or if it's because I'm a werewolf, but I always tend to eat much more than my grandparents. We enjoy our meal and each other's company, then I clean up. Just as I finish washing the dishes, I get a phone call.

Demarco speaks over the phone in a hushed whisper, "You know how the Walcott family was murdered?"

"Yeah.." I say slowly, trying to figure out what I was missing.

"Their son survived." He said.

"Sean?" I ask.

"Yes. He's young and struggling to control his hunger. And he just so happens to be at Beacon Hills' hospital." Demarco warns.

"No. You're kidding me." I say in disbelief.

With concern, he asks, "Do you need some help on this one?"

"No." I say flatly. "No use in pissing Him off."

"Alright, I get it. Hold up, he wants a word." Demarco says softly, passing the phone to the Alpha.

"You might be able to train Sean, you know." I say to him.

"Wendigo's are too much of a hassle. " He tells me.

"So you deal for them but you won't deal with them?" I say.

"You know me too well."

"What about your business?" I ask, though I don't care for the answer.

"There are plenty of other supernatural creatures in Beacon County."

"Plenty of other customers?"

"Be careful, Marina." He says before hanging up.

I check on my grandparents to make sure they're both asleep, then I drive to the hospital.

* * *

I could smell the metallic scent of blood long before I entered Walcott's room, though it still couldn't have prepared me for what I saw. A police officer was sprawled on the ground, his blood oozing across the floor with his scattered intestines ripped to shreds, parts undoubtedly bitten into and eaten. I catch onto Sean's scent, pungent like rotten meat, and I hear a high pitched scream followed by "NO! LEAVE ME ALONE!" That sounds like Melissa McCall..

I run towards the screams only to see Sean cornering Mrs. McCall as if she was a piece of meat. Just at that moment, Scott McCall shows up. He growls ferociously and tackles Sean to the ground. Just as he thinks he has Sean pinned to the wall, the wendigo pushes Scott across the hall with a great amount of force, and then he runs around the corner. While Scott checks on his mother, I run past them around the corner and after Sean. When I catch up to him, he stalks towards a familiar looking boy, Liam, this time ready to feast.

"Sean," I say, without any effect. I try again, this time with authority. "Sean Walcott, your family didn't die for this." Well, that certainly caught his attention. "I pity you. Your whole family died while you listened from your room."

Now seething in rage, Sean turns back to Liam, grabs him by the throat and runs off.

"For fucksake!" I cry out, running after him. Scott and I get to the roof at the same time, only to see Sean holding Liam as hostage.

"Get back!" Sean shouts out to us threateningly.

"Don't," Scott says with reason, "You don't need to do this! Whatever it is, whatever you are, we can help you."

"No you can't" Sean says, fighting off tears.

"Let us help you," I insist, raising my arms towards him.

"Wendigo's don't need help," He says sharply, "We need food!" At that moment, Liam tries to escape, struggling in Sean's arm. Scott seizes this opportunity and jumps up towards them both as I follow his actions after a mere few seconds of hesitation. Sean throws Liam away towards the edge in order to fight us off, though Scott rushes right past him to save Liam. As Scott tries to pull Liam off the edge, Sean pulls on Scott. In this moment I am so confused, what could I possibly do? Tug on Sean's shirt and ask him to stop? Sean keeps pulling on Scott and the Alpha begins to lose his grip, Sean pulls both of Scott's arms away and I hear a bone shattering scream that sends a chill down my spine. In order to save Liam, Scott dug his teeth into his flesh.

This kicks my senses into overdrive and I grab the back of Sean's head, giving him a dose of whiplash. As I pull him back and force him to walk away from Scott and Liam, blood suddenly spits out of Sean's mouth and he crumbles to the ground with an axe buried in his back. This person emerges from the shadows, retrieves his axe, and nonchalantly walks away. The only problem was, he had no mouth.

This mute is the least of my worries. I turn back to find poor Liam writhing in pain, clutching his arm, and Scott still as a werewolf with blood on his mouth and horror etched across his face.

* * *

_**A/N: The band logo I had in mind was the Arctic Monkeys, and the mixed tape includes songs from the bands Fall Out Boy, Panic! At The Disco, My Chemical Romance, Bastille, The Arctic Monkeys, and a few others in similar taste. The ringtone I had in mind was This Is Gospel by Panic! At The Disco. The main conflict with the protagonist at the moment is struggling to admit to Scott that she has powers because she's so afraid that she'll trust him and he'll take advantage of that as an Alpha of a pack. Also, it's canon that Wendigo's are a hell of a lot more stronger than werewolves. **_


	3. Chapter 3: Things We Lost

"Scott!" I cry out, grasping the Alpha's attention. Cluelessly, Scott pleads for my guidance. "I need you to focus. We have to get Liam away from here before the police show up." Speechless, he nods his head and walks towards Liam.

Liam is having none of his shit. He squirms away to the best of his abilities while applying pressure to his arm. Liam winces every time Scott tries to touch him. My hard expression fades into a softer one when I realize what Liam is going through. He was doing so well at the tryouts just hours before, only to have his leg most likely broken by Scott. Then, at the hospital he was attacked by a disturbing teenage cannibal who tried to eat him, followed by getting bitten by the guy who probably broke his leg. That, and the fact that Sean Walcott's body still lies in front of us, his blood oozing in a pool, would rationalize his distrust in the Alpha before him.

I approach Liam, signalling to Scott that he should give the boy some space. He doesn't try to squirm away, which I take as a good sign. "Let's get you someplace safe, alright Liam? I can take care of your wound and give you an explanation." Liam ceases to protest and Scott carries him, bridal style, to my car. Just as I start the ignition, Liam goes unconscious.

Driving, I glance over to Scott in my passenger seat. "You should text your friend, Stiles."

"Yeah," He agrees in a dazed state.

"Poor kid," I mumble, checking on Liam through my rear-view mirror. "He's been through a lot in one day."

"So have you," Scott says, putting together pieces of the puzzle.

"It's pretty hard to phase me." I say through a snort.

"Okay, are you going to ask or do I have to say it?" Scott asks.

Innocently as possible, I mused, "What?"

"You just saw that monster- what was it, a wendigo?" He starts, "And you saw me change into a.."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, uh- Scott, is it?" I ask as he nods for me to continue, "It was really dark and it all happened so fast. I think Sean was just suffering from a mental illness. He went through a lot with his family, you know, so maybe he just wasn't right in the head." Scott stares at me, dumbfounded. "As for you, well, all I saw was you coming to poor, defenseless Liam's rescue."

"It's Marina, right?" He asks. I nod my head and he says, "Thank you. For helping me with Liam.. and for this."

"Don't mention it just yet, you might still need my help with him." Just as he's about to ask questions, I say "Which street is your house on?"

* * *

Against all my protests, Scott panics and constraints Liam by wrapping his body in duct tape and then proceeds to keep him in his bathtub until Stiles arrives. I can hear his pulse rise and his breath quicken in terror as I tend to his arm, and Stiles and Scott bicker back and forth, deciding his fate. If Scott neglects Liam, I could always try to train him myself. But Scott wouldn't do that..

I push the curtain aside and sit on the edge of the bathtub to take him all in. I gaze at his wild, fleeting eyes that are at an indeterminable cross between green and blue. His muscles relax as he sees me, only to flex again once Scott and Stiles re-enter the bathroom. They hoist him onto a chair, where he stares at the junior boys in confusion, frustration, and sheer terror.

Stiles speaks first, with authority in his tone that he normally lacks, saying, "Liam, we're going to take the tape off your mouth. If you scream, it goes right back on. If you talk quietly, it stays off. Got it?"

Liam nods his head in compliance. Scott and Stiles each signal to each other to take off the tape, so with a sigh I step up. One hand lifting his chin up, Liam stares at me, perplexed. Though I know it should be quick, I peel the tape off slowly and gently.

"Okay, Liam." Stiles starts, "Now, you've seen a lot of confusing things tonight and more confusing things are going to happen because of the confusing things that happened tonight. Do you understand?"

Liam shakes his head and says, "Not really." while Scott tries to grasp onto what Stiles just said.

"Good," Stiles points out, "That's good."

"I don't understand either.." Scott admits.

"Maybe _you_ should tell him." Stiles says.

"Tell me what?" Liam says through frustration.

"Liam," Scott begins, "What happened to you- what I did to you, which I had to do in order to save you, i- it's going to change you." _Well said, Scott. _

"Unless it kills you." Stiles chimes in. _For fucksake! _"should not have said that.." He mumbles as Scott, Liam and I stare at him.

"What?" Liam breathes out in a whisper.

"Uh.." Says Stiles, at a loss for words as Liam's breath becomes shallow and he lowers his head. "Is he- Is he crying?"

"It's okay, you're gonna be alright, you're not gonna die." I say, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Probably not-" Stiles interjects.

Scott scolds him, saying "Stop it!"

"Okay.." Stiles mumbles.

"Would you just help me untie him," Scott pleaded.

Once the tape is cut free, Liam sits on the chair, contemplating what to think. I help him stand up and as he sways on the spot. "Liam, you okay?" Scott asks.

"We're sorry about the.. we're just really sorry," Stiles adds. Suddenly, Liam clutches my arm and pushes me away as he proceeds to grab the chair he sat on and smashes it into Scott. Scott falls from the impact but Stiles says, "Liam? What the hell is your proble-" only to be socked in the jaw with a right uppercut from Liam. He stares at me for a few seconds before deciding I wasn't a threat and dashing out the door. Scott and Stiles run after Liam and tackle him down the stairs. As I come down I see Scott and Stiles entangled in each other as the front door is left wide open.

I blow out a gust of air that I didn't realize I was holding in, and as I step over both boys and out the door I say, "The full moon is tomorrow."

* * *

I roll up to school the next day in my Chevrolet and park relatively close to the entrance. I grab my black bag and exit the car, then adjust the hem of my dress. I always have the urge to dress up on full moon's, and today I chose to wear a red dress with sleeves just past the shoulder, a golden belt and a V neckline to show off my curves. I think the full moon hormonally strengthens the supernatural, or maybe it's just me. With my long black hair curled and my tan skin tone, the dress flatters me in all the right places. I strut past a group of either 9 or 10th graders, and lock my car before walking into the school.

As they follow me into the school, I can't help but listen to their conversation.

"I'm not watching another movie on a friday night," the blonde one says, earning a scoff from the other two. "Mason, there's got to be something going on,"

The other kid, Mason, answers, "Dude, you remember we're freshmen.. right? We just got off a school bus, we're not exactly going to be hitting the clubs till 4 am."

"Kay, movie at your place, 9." The girl replies.

I don't really pay attention to my surroundings, so when Liam runs into me, I'm startled.

"Uh," He says, flustered, "s- sorry."

"Woah, it's alright." I say with a smile.

"Hey, Liam!" The boy, Mason, shouts out from behind me. "Why weren't you on the bus?"

"Uhh, I ran," He says breathlessly, looking from me to Mason.

"You _ran_ three miles to school?" Mason says in disbelief.

Liam catches onto his problem and is about to speak when I interject. "He's just kidding, of course." I say, turning to Mason. With a wink I add, "He got a ride from me." I wave goodbye to the two and walk towards my locker, but run into Scott only ten feet away. He looks at me and is about to ask a question, when we both turn towards Liam's direction.

Mason tries to suppress his surprise at my remark, but his smile falters when he says, "Liam, what happened to your arm?"

Since Mason pointed it out, Liam begins to trip out. He clutches onto a post and tries to catch his breath.

"Dude, are you okay?" His friend Mason asks.

"I'll talk to you later, I gotta get to class." He says. He turns to our direction and sees both Scott and I standing there with concern on our faces. He runs off in the opposite direction of my locker and Scott quickly follows. Instead of cornering him like Scott and Stiles are currently doing, I take my time walking as I follow his musky scent.

As I turn a corner, I hear Scott say, "Liam, we're brothers now."

"Oh, god, Scott." Stiles mumbles under his breath.

"What?" Liam asks, slightly offended. "What are you talking about? We just met and you bit me!"

"The bite... The bite is a gift," Scott continues. I internally groan and resist the urge to poke my eyes out with a fork.

"Scott, stop. Please, stop." Stiles interjects. Turning to Liam, he says, "You! You, we are trying to help you, you little runt."

"By kidnapping me?" Liam counters. I weakly attempt to hide my smirk.

"Just to clarify, Scott kidnapped you and I aided him" Stiles reminds him.

"Liam, I've gone through this before. Something's happening to you, something big."

Liam shakes his head and says, "Nothing's happening to me." He raises his arm and pulls off the bandage I applied on him yesterday, bearing no mark of ever having a wound. "Nothing." He turns and walks away while Stiles, Scott and I reminisce in what we just witnessed.

* * *

_**A/N: On my profile I have a link to a picture of the dress I describe Marina to be wearing on the full moon, I suggest you take a look. Marina is becoming more involved with the characters (a certain character, to be specific). I know Beacon Hills is in California but I honestly don't know how the driving laws work in America so I made up an imaginary law where you have to be in 11th grade to be able to drive. **_


	4. Chapter 4: When the Sun Goes Down

Malia stands with her arms crossed as she firmly says, "I'm not sharing my basement."

"Actually, it's my basement," Lydia points out, "and my mom knows how you tore it up last time."

"Alright, she's still learning." Stiles interjected on Malia's behalf. Scott, Kira, Malia, Lydia, Stiles and I stand huddled together between two school buses, discussing what is to be done about Liam considering the full moon tonight.

"We're going to use the boathouse for Liam, it's got support beams and we can chain him to one of them." Says Scott, reassuring Malia,

"But how do we get him out to the lake house if he doesn't trust us?" Kira asks.

"I say if it keeps him from murdering someone, we just chloroform the little bastard and throw him into the lake." Stiles insists.

"I'm in," Malia chimes.

"We're not killing or kidnapping him," I say firmly, "You tried that once already, remember?"

"Hey, okay first of all, who invited you?" Stiles asked, pointing his finger at me accusingly.

"I did," Scott and Kira both say at the same time. "I trust her, she helped me with Liam, remember?" Scott continues.

"That, and she's been my closest friend since I moved here," Kira added. I gesture with my arms towards Kira in gratitude.

"Then let's be smarter, we tell him there's a party and invite him," Lydia suggests.

"Hold up a sec, you're gonna ask out a freshman?" Stiles says, baffled.

"No, I'm done with teenage boys," She says, "But, if we're playing a trick on someone, let's use the trickster."

"Who, me?" Kira says as everyone's eyes land on her. "No way, not me."

"Yes, you!" Lydia insists. "You know what they call a female fox? A vixen."

Kira's gaze flicks from me to Scott and I understand why she would be uncomfortable with the suggestion. She's into Scott, she doesn't want to flirt with a freshman.

"How about Marina?" She suggests innocently as I glare at her. I should not have worn this dress today. I should've worn sweatpants. And a sweater.

"What makes you think he would trust me?" I ask dubiously.

"Stiles and I were there, he trusts you more than he trusts us."

I let out a frustrated groan as Kira silently cheers.

* * *

Just as I hear Liam talking to Mason around a corner from the other end of the hallway, I go from scowling to _**-back straight- -neck elongated- -sway hips slightly- -oh, is he looking? Okay good, do a lil hair flip- -just walk, and think murder-** _I take in all the tips Lydia gave me as I hold a few textbooks in my hands, and they're clearly working because Liam doesn't take his eyes off of me. I walk down the stairs, being oh so careful about not tripping, and as I near him, I purposely brush into "someone random" walking (Malia was right on cue) and drop my books right in front of him, one of them falling on his foot.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I say, bending down to grab my textbooks as my dress rides up slightly. I can feel his gaze on me and I realize what a promiscuous angle he's looking at me from. After a few heated seconds, he helps me gather my books.

"N- No, don't worry about it." He says, blushing. I can hear his heartbeat rising rapidly.

When we stand, I graze his arm with my hand gently. "Really, I mean it. I'm sorry, especially sorry about what you've been through the last couple of days."

He doesn't say anything, just nods. I say, "I just can't stop thinking about you. Uh, I mean_ it_! I can't stop thinking about_ it_, and, like, all the stuff that happened. To you." I can't believe I'm playing this poor kid, since when did I become such a good liar? "So let me make it up to you?" I suggest.

"What? No, don't worry about it," He says coolly.

"I insist," I say, smiling flirtatiously. "There's a party tonight, will you come with me?"

"Uhh," He says speechlessly with a wide grin, as if he would ever dare say no.

"I totally get it if you don't want to go with me," I say, looking at the ground. Oh man, he is going to be so pissed when he realizes I played him so badly.

"No!" He says loudly, grasping my shoulders. Letting go, he says, "Uh, I mean yes. I would love to go. With you."

"Great!" I say, flashing him a big smile. "Here's my number, I'll come pick you up at 7:30 after my shift."

* * *

Working at a tattoo parlour, you learn to realize that it's too difficult to judge someone by what they look like. Currently seated in the waiting area is a buff, burly man who showed me a picture of his kitten that he wants over his heart. Next to him is a middle-aged woman in business attire who asked for the phrase "Fuck Fascists" on her lower back. The only thing we don't do in this shop is portraits of people, and though we have some exceptions- we strongly recommend to our clients not get people's names tattooed to their bodies. The exceptions including deceased family members and what not.

I did a work experience here through highschool last year, for three weeks. Back then I wasn't allowed to do much, I couldn't handle the cash register or touch any of the instruments- all I did was sweep floors, wipe the glass cases and greet the clients. That's what really attracted me here, the clients. Working with the public was something I was quite anxious about, especially in a tattoo shop, but I quickly learned to dismiss stereotypes. After my work experience was over, Daryl- the manager, offered me a part-time job and, of course, I said yes. I had to slowly inch my way up, at first only working the cash register, then sanitizing the equipment and refilling ink and stocking supplies, until Daryl found my sketchbook. He saw all the sketches and paintings I did based off all the supernatural creatures I ran into, then he had me drawing actual images for display. Finally, after over a year, I was allowed to start my position as a part-time tattoo artist. At the moment, all I do is drop-ins, but that's more than satisfactory for me. Of course, clients are always skeptical to see a teenager as their artist, up until I draw what it is they have in mind for their tattoos. Daryl said someone called earlier today about a drop-in at around 6, and it's now 6:34 and I'm getting a little anxious considering I asked Daryl to leave early today, at 7.

The door opens, and in walks a familiar teenage boy. I think his name is Garrett, he tried out for the Lacrosse team and was pretty good.

"Hi there," I greet him with a smile. "How can I help you?"

"Uh, hi." He says politely. He looks uncomfortable. "I'm Garrett, I called earlier about dropping in."

"Yes, of course. My name is Marina, I'll be your artist today. What did you have in mind?" I ask.

"I was thinking.. a wolf." He says, waiting for my reaction.

Unfazed, I ask, "Alright, were you thinking the full body or just the head?"

"Just the head. I want it to look a little robotic, you know that whole artsy thing? But with red glowing eyes." That's slightly suspicious, Garrett.

"Of course. Did you have any specific colours in mind?"

"Yeah, like greyish blue."

"Okay, where would you like the piece?" I ask.

"Right here," He says, rolling up his sleeve and pointing to his muscle. Something tells me he's just showing off.

"That's a prime spot," I say with a smirk, "You might like to add a phrase just above or below the piece, a little bit of writing in cursive."

"Yeah, yeah that sounds good," He says. "How about... the dead beasts? But like, in french."

That sounds horrible. I say, "That sounds wonderful, if you would give me just a few minutes I can sketch it out and show you the piece, then you can let me know what changes you want to make." He nods and takes a seat in the waiting area. "While you're waiting, I'm going to need you to fill out this form on some basic information and stating you're older than 16, and if not you'll need parental or guardian permission. If you are, I'll need to see some I.D., your driver's licence will do."

I know Garrett is a freshman, and he knows that I know. As I'm pulling out my sketchbook, and older gentlemen walks into the shop.

"That's my dad," Garrett points out. Bullshit. This guy couldn't be a day over 25, way too young to have a 15 year old son. That, and the fact that Garrett looks nothing like him due to his black hair, pale skin and brown eyes, tells me the whole situation is suspicious.

My gaze flickers between the two unconvinced, but I still slide a paper across the counter in the mans direction and say, "Sign here, please."

It's not my place to ask questions and the shop's policy is (and I quote) "so long as a junior has parental or guardian permission, s'all good."

The young man signs a name (I doubt it's his actual name), winks at me with a smile, then leaves the shop to wait in a car outside.

I finish up my sketch, a ferocious wolf head with red glowing eyes- with a cubism touch since he said "robotic." I add tints of grey, green, blue and a bit of white here and there to mark out the colours, add the words 'Les Bêtes Mortes' in cursive, then I show Garrett the portrait.

"Looks good," He says, satisfied.

"Great," I say. "For this size, it'll come to about $50"

"Why so cheap?" He asks, as if he's waiting for a catch.

"We typically charge $100 per hour, I doubt this'll take more than half."

I finish his tattoo several tissues and 30 minutes later, at exactly 7:15 (you can never tell who's the crying type). He pays,_ in cash_, thanks me, then runs out and takes a seat in the car with the young man who signed as his dad.


	5. Chapter 5: The Mirror's Image

_**There's a kissy scene in this chapter. You get a warning partly because Marina's hormones get amped on full moons, and partly because I'm a sleazy bastard who has the hots for Liam Dunbar.**_

_**Quick, go listen to an acoustic version of Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? -Arctic Monkeys (link to the song on my profile)**_

* * *

_**[flashback to like, two minutes ago]**_

"So, Garrett. Most people have a significant meaning behind their first tattoo, does yours mean something special to you or do you just like wolves?" I ask the freshman as I rub his bicep with rubbing alcohol. He sits facing the full body mirror on the wall, and flexes when the cold cleaning solution hits his warm flesh. Something tells me he's less of a Scott-kind-of-fan-of-wolves and more of a Gerard-kind-of-fan-of-wolves.

"There's a meaning behind it, it's pretty personal. I'm actually not a big fan of wolves, though," He says with a smirk as if he knows something I don't. I know a hunter when I see one.

I apply a jelly-like substance to the area he pointed out, then transferred the sheet of paper with the outline of the art piece.

"Take a look in the mirror," I say, gesturing towards where he was already looking. He turns slightly and grins when he sees the outline.

"Cool." I ready the rest of the procedure and continue on with my work. Before I begin puncturing, I quickly change the music settings on the speakers from radio to a copy of my own personal mixed tape (something all the employees seem to enjoy).When the needle starts, Garrett's face screams panic.

"Relax," I say, "It sounds worse than it feels." I let the music begin and it quickly drowns out the buzzing sound.

* * *

I'm about ten minutes late when I get to Liam's house. What? I'm sorry, but I had to stop off at my place and change, my clothes **pungently** smelled of ink and blood. Not to mention the fact that gramps bombarded me with questions before he got tired and fell asleep, then gram made me drink her tea (which smells like old people, by the way)before leaving to prevent a headache. Now I sit in my car, in my cute little black dress (something convincing enough to fool him into thinking we're actually going to a party, but something comfortable and flexible enough to run after and tackle a beta, if necessary), now smelling _faintly_ of ink and blood, and I think I'm actually a little nervous. I text Liam, but get no reply so I decide to get out of the car and ring the doorbell. As I walk up the steps, I begin to question whether this is even the right house. I hear the faint _ding-dong_, and realize it's silly of me to be nervous. This isn't a date, not really. I mean- he thinks it is, but actually I'm going to hand him right over to Scott and- suddenly I find myself second guessing the whole plan.

That is, until someone opens the door. A tall, dark-skinned man who looked roughly about Mrs. McCall's age stood before me, soda can in hand with fluffy slippers on.

"Hi." He says with a smile. "You must be Liam's date, I'm his step-father."

"Hi there!" I say with my client-greeting smile, "Nice to meet you, sir, I'm Marina." I extend my hand and he shakes it firmly.

"This party.." He hesitates, "It's not.."

"Oh, don't worry." I assure him, "I'll take care of him."

Liam's step-dad lets out a sigh of relief and is about to speak further when Liam comes running from around a hallway, partially out of breath.

"Heeey," He says with suave. Well, as much suave as a freshman can have while out of breath and in front of his step-dad.

"Hey!" I say with a little wave. "Ready to go?"

"Let's." He breathes out, practically pulling me away from his step-dad. "Sorry about him," He mutters once we get into the car.

"No worries, he's very nice," I say politely. I feel like throwing up. This must be Liam's first date, he's so excited. His hair is gelled up, he wears a nice buttoned-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up and he smells like.. those retail employees in Abercrombie & Fitch (we all have our faults). I don't know if I can do this. As I start the engine, I get a text from Scott.

_"Where r u guys?"_

"Just leaving Liam's house" I respond. I turn my music on and we make our way to Lydia's lake house. A few minutes into the drive, I notice Liam's heartbeat spike. That's when I realize the moon is already out and I have an uncontrollable beta in my car who was literally bit, like, two fucking days ago.

"So where's this party supposed to be?" Liam asks, eyeing my dress.

"It's Lydia Martin's lake house," I answer. "It's a really nice place, plus no neighbours to complain about noise," I joke.

After replying with silence, I turn my gaze toward Liam, only to see him gritting his teeth and discretely trying to cover his ears. "CAN YOU TURN THE MUSIC DOWN?" He barked, not realizing how loud he was speaking. Down? But it was already on such a low volume. I hear his heartbeat quicken terrifyingly and slow my car down to a reasonable speed. Liam was sweating profusely, twitching and cringing at the slightest sound or movement. I slowly approach him and lay a hand on his shoulder, after a few seconds his heartbeat steadies and he takes his hands off his ears.

I pull over on the side of the road, just to be safe, but before I can say anything both of our cell phones buzz.

_"Stall for a bit, we need more time." _Lydia texts me.

"how the hell am i supposed to stall a teenage werewolf with uncontrollable powers on a full moon while he sits in my passenger sea- **_[backspace] [backspace]_ **And how am I supposed to do that?"

_"He's a freshman, you're a junior. Pull over, play some tunes, first base, second base, whatever you're in the mood for." _

"YOU WANT ME TO SEDUCE LIAM?"

_"Seduce, stall, whatever helps you sleep at night." _

"omg i hate you so much rn. Tell no one"

_":*"_

_**[Cue kissy scene]**_

With a sigh, my phone plunks back into the cup holder and I see Liam looking at his screen.

"Who did you say was coming to this party?" He asks me.

"Everyone," I assured him. When he puts his phone away, he notices me looking at him. He's so young, only fifteen. I guess he is quite attractive...

"What?" He asks, self-conscious under my gaze.

"You alright?" Listening to his heartbeat, I already know the answer.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He says, confused. My playlist changes to the next song and sets a sensual atmosphere.

"Are you sure?" I ask again, "You're sweating a little." He quickly wipes his face with his sleeve. Then I play the oldest trick in the book.

"Uh.. you've got an eyelash on your cheek." I say, gesturing to my own face.

He wipes his cheek, trying to get off the imaginary eyelash. I bite my lip, then lean closer to him and delicately wipe away the "eyelash."

Liam blushes at our close proximity, but doesn't take his eyes off my lips.

As I inch closer, he clenches his jaw. His Abercrombie cologne met my scent of ink and blood and in that moment, I forgot about many things. I forgot about the Wendigo's, and the family-murdering-mute-axe-murderer, and the other True Alpha that I was supposed to hand this boy over to. Because how could I just hand him over and walk away? This innocent, beautiful boy who's innocent, beautiful life was now about to be stained by the supernatural.

So yes, after all this boy had been through and before all he was about to go through, I could rationalize giving in to Lydia's suggestive manner of stalling.

I let out a quick intake of breath, which pushed him over the edge. With a great deal of courage he closed the space between our lips, lips which are soft with a faint taste of spearmint. Blood rushes to my face when I realize I must taste like cigarettes, and I pull away. He opens his eyes slowly, savouring the moment. He looks to me as if pleading for more, and you bet your ass I'm going to give it to him, cigarettes or not. I unbuckle my seat belt and he fumbles to unbuckles his, then I raise myself from the drivers seat to onto his lap, straddling him with my legs. The warmth from his legs seeps through his jeans and against my bare thighs, I run my hands through my hair and am about to kiss him like I'm a fucking porn star or something, up until I see red and blue lights flashing through the rear window.

"Oh shit," I whisper, returning back to the driver's seat and buckling my seat belt. Liam follows pursuit, looking hurt and confused, up until he hears the police sirens. He clutches his ears tightly again and cries out in pain. Then I get a phone call.

"Hello?" I answer, watching Liam as if staring at him and looking worried would somehow solve the problem. The sirens cease and Liam relaxes, though still sweating from the struggle.

"Marina, it's Lydia."

I have the urge to say 'wait stop Liam can hear you' but then I realize that Liam can also hear me.

"Lydia, hey!" I reply, with enthusiasm. "Everything alright on that end? Need me to pick anything up?"

Lydia says, "Everything's good, better get here soon." Just as a police officer knocks on my window. I roll the window down and hold up a finger, asking for just a moment on the phone.

"That's good, I'll get there soon. Alright, I gotta go there's a police officer. Mkay, bye."

Turning to the cop, I say in my client-greeting voice, "Hi there, officer!"

"Hello there, m'am. You two alright?" He asks me. I believe this is the deputy, but it's a bit hard to tell in the dark.

"Yes sir, we are. I just pulled over to take a call," I explain. He peers into the car and what he see's is probably comical to the point where I can't even look him in the eye. There I am in the driver seat, with my dress hiked up and my hair disheveled, and next to me is dressed up Liam who's sweating (and has a lipstick stain on his lips).

"Drive safely," The Deputy says, shaking his head with a smirk as he walks back to his car.

* * *

_**A/N: I lied about it being borderline rated M (I actually wrote out the scene and decided it was a little weird, so I just had Parrish interrupt them instead) **_

_**Leave a review and let me know what you thought about the story so far, this particular chapter or that kissy scene. More on cigarettes and reisha tea in the following chapters.**_

_**Oh, and another thing: the "sensual" song was the acoustic version of Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High - Arctic Monkeys**_


	6. Chapter 6: the Foxes Hunt the Hounds

_**Quick everyone, stop what you're doing and go listen to this song: Young Volcanoes by Fall Out Boy (I got a PM saying a song of the chapter [like song-of-the-week] should be a thing, and now it is) **_

* * *

I step on the brake and my car jerks to a full stop just inches away from Stile's jeep. After parking, I exit the car in hopes of reaching the house before Liam could ask any questions. Like, maybe why there was only three cars parked outside.

He looks around, waving his arms and says, "Where is everyone?"

Agh, I hate lying to his puppy face. "We're a little early. Parties don't typically start until, like, 10," I lied. "I told Lydia we'd help her make drinks."

Liam opens the unlocked door and takes a few steps in the darkness. I close the door behind me, and he turns and glares with his mouth open in astonishment and his eyebrows raised, looking for answers.

Scott, Kira, Lydia, Malia and Stiles stand in a line, ready to take over the situation.

"What the hell is this?" He asks them, avoiding me.

"Think of it like an intervention," Stiles proposes, "You have a problem, Liam."

"And, we are the only ones that can help you." Scott adds.

"What, by kidnapping me again?" He asks, slightly annoyed. "You're not going to duct tape me, are you? Is this like a stupid prank that seniors play on freshmen?"

"This is not a grad prank," I answer, forcing him to look at me. "We're juniors. And we're not going to harm you, we're going to take care of you."

"Liam, I've gone through what you're going through right now." Scott says, "I know exactly how you feel. You're confused and angry, upset and frustrated, but above all you're scared out of your mind. Let us help you."

"You- you keep saying that! You keep saying you're going to help me but I don't understand how! I can hear things I shouldn't be able to hear, smell things I shouldn't be able to smell. I can literally see things miles away! How can you possibly do anything to help me with that?" Liam cries out in frustration.

"By training you." Scott answers. "The full moon is tonight, and that's when you have the least control of your powers-"

"Powers? I have powers now? What, like heat vision? I'm not going to hear voices in my head, am I?"

"No, that's me." Lydia points out.

"Look, the bite affects people differently. Me and you, we're half wolf. Malia's half coyote, Kira's a fox and Lydia's a banshee."

"Hold up, hold up." Liam interjects. "So you're a werewolf?" He asks pointing to Scott.

With a nod, he replies, "Yes. And so are you."

"Does anybody know you're a werewolf? Do the other kids at school know?"

"Liam," I start, "This isn't like a Micheal J. Fox movie, and though I'm a a big fan of Back to the Future, we can't have you running around on the Lacrosse team all wolfed out. It might've worked in the 80's, but not anymore."

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"Well, for starters, if you don't have control you could seriously injure someone- you might even kill someone." Scott answers. "Not to mention, there are certain types of people- just ordinary people- who hunt those like us."

Liam looks quite scared after all this information, so I say, "Yeah. In the condition you're in right now, you're putting other people and yourself in danger. However," I pause for dramatic effect, "If you can learn to control it, you'll be able to use your new found powers to your advantage."

"In the condition I'm in right now?" He repeats.

"As in, you were just bitten. With time, we can teach you to control it- the fangs, the claws, the anger, the strength, speed, sense of smell, heightened hearing." Scott says.

"So, you're a werewolf," Liam says, pointing to Scott, "You're a were-... coyote..?" He continues, pointing to Malia. "You're a banshee," He says to Lydia, "And you're a fox?" He asks, turning to Kira.

"Kitsune," She corrects, "But fox works."

"Use your senses, you can smell all of our scents," Scott says.

"What are you?" Liam asks Stiles.

"Well, for a while I was possessed by an evil spirit." After silence he mumbles, "very evil."

"What are you now?" Liam demands.

"Better...?" After Stiles, Liam assumes I'm also human. The rest of them do too, and for now I would like to keep it that way.

Addressing the chains and shackles on Lydia's coffee table, Liam asks, "Are those for me?"

"No, they're for me." Malia states, revealing the true blue of her coyote-like eyes.

"Wha- How'd you do that?" Liam demands.

"You'll learn." Scott insists. "But first, you need to get through the full moon."

"The moon's already out," Liam says, his heartbeat pounding hard.

"..And you're starting to feel something, aren't you?" Scott asks.

Turning to me, he says, "I feel like I'm surrounded by a bunch of psychotic nut jobs! You guys are out of your fucking minds." We all stare at him, unable to comprehend what to do. Liam raises his voice, now shouting at us all, "I don't know how you did that eye thing, aND I DON'T CARE! I'M WALKING OUT THE DOOR RIGHT NOW, AND IF ANY OF YOU TRY TO STOP ME, I SWEAR TO GOD I'M GONNA-" The sound of cars pulling up onto the gravel outside interrupts Liam. If I can hear it, god knows how amplified it must sound for Liam.

"What's wrong, Liam?" Scott asks in concern.

Liam cries out in pain, clutching his ears as an abundance of noise can be heard from outside. "ARGh! You don't hear that?"

"Did you tell someone about this?" Lydia asks, drawing out her words with dread sprawled across her face.

"My friend, Mason." He answers, panting for breath.

"Well, looks like Mason brought some friends," I whisper as I peek out the window and gaze upon the swarm of freshmen students getting dropped off by older siblings and parents.

"You said it was a party!" He says defensively.

"And who did Mason invite?" Stile's asks, looking from Liam to me.

"Everyone." I huffed out.

"Let's go," Scott says, cueing their leave.

"Wait!" Lydia calls out after them, "What am I supposed to do with the hoards gathering outside?"

"Uh, duh." I say as she turns to me. "You're Lydia Martin. Who throws the best parties in Beacon Hills?"

"What?" She asks, not quite sure how this has to do with the current situation, "Me! Obviously."

"Okay," I continue, "So let's throw a party. I mean, even if we shoo them off, they might still be able to hear Liam. Music would drain the sounds." After a moment of everyone staring at me and considering the plan, I add, "Right?" to (hopefully) throw off suspicion.

"How do you know so much? About all this stuff," Lydia asks me as they start to leave. I notice Scott pause for my answer.

I reply with, "Lydia, it's fucking Beacon Hills."

"Can't argue with that," Scott mumbles as they usher him away to the boathouse, whereas Malia starts to lose her grip as well and Stile's takes her to the basement with the chains.

* * *

Opening the door with Lydia, an overwhelming amount of freshmen stand before us. Liam's friend, Mason stands infront of the door with Garrett and some other girl.

"Hey!" Mason calls out, recognizing me. "Uh, are we in the right place?"

"For the party...?" Garrett continues, slightly shocked to see his tattoo artist twice in one day.

I smile and Lydia and I press ourselves to the door before she says, "Absolutely." All those fifteen year olds pour into Lydia's lake house cheering loudly and I can feel the frustration coming off of Lydia.

We get some music going, rather loudly by the way, and some freshman picks an electronic track that everyone seems to enjoy.

"This music makes me feel old," I say to Lydia, who nods her head in agreement.

"Let's go to the kitchen, hopefully it's a little more quieter in there," She suggests. She grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd of dancing nineth graders- bumping, humping, grinding and all- and into the kitchen, where Demarco arrives with a keg of beer.

"Son of a bitch," I whisper through a smile.

"Should've known I'd find you here," He says, flicking my hair.

Lydia interrupts us with, "I didn't order a keg of beer,"

"Somebody ordered it," He countered. "You trynna tell me no body here wants to drink?"

Lydia sighs, then sees a glass of wine balanced on her laptop on the kitchen counter.  
"Who put this here?" She cries out, then mutters, "This laptop's two thousand dollars."

After witnessing Garrett sniff a bottle of open whine, she snatches the bottle away from him and says, "That bottle's $400."

Back to Demarco, she asks, "How much?" He presents her with a bill, cluttered with all sorts of additional charges that he uses to con people.

Over Lydia's shoulder, I say, "Come on, Demarco. What's all this?"

He puffs out a breath, then says, "Fine. Forget the additional charges, just pay for the keg."

Lydia turns to me and whispers "Thanks," before turning back to Demarco to say, "Let me get some cash."

"I opened the wine," Garrett admits to me just as Lydia goes upstairs, "I should probably pay for it." He pays Demarco full in cash before turning to smile at me.

"Do you always carry around large amounts of cash? Freshman mistake, my friend." I say, unsure of what to make of him.

"Only when I know I might need it." He answers.

"How's your arm feeling?" I ask him. He wears a black leather jacket, concealing the bandaged tattoo.

"It's fine." He lies.

"Hmm, well, it'll start to itch soon. What ever you do, don't scratch it." I say. He nods to my advice, then I add, "You know what? I'm not supposed to do this, but hey, if you need a touch up just come in and I'll do it for free until the end of the month."

"Really?" He asks in disbelief. When I nod my head, he says, "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

I wave to him, excusing my leave and Demarco signals me over. We smile at each other and weave through the house to get outside. Finally escaping the scent of sweat and axe body spray, we lean against his car.

"What are you doing here?" He asks me. His beard adds ten years to his face, and while you would never be able to guess it, Demarco's only just turned 20.

"Good question." I reply, unsure of the answer myself. "Well, I might as well tell you. Scott bit a kid, we had to keep him safe on the full moon so I brought him here, convinced him there was a party. Only problem was that he told his buddy about the party. Then his buddy told everyone else."

"Wait, wait wait. You're apart of Scott's pack now?" He asks, astonished. When I had just moved here, Demarco was also bit. The Alpha trained both of us, we were his first beta's. While I was in 8th grade, he was only in 11th.

"No!" I say defensively. "I was there when he was bit, I feel responsible. I'm just helping out, they don't even know about me."

"Oh," He replies. "You know, He's been talking about you."

"Is that so? What, is He trying to set an example by telling everyone what a bad beta I was?"

"No. He recruited another one, just a kid. Probably not even 16, his name is Brett. He tells stories about you to try and train him." He says.

"Oh, I get it. _'Yeah, I had this beta once, she could never control herself, she never listened to me, she always got into trouble with the other pack, now where do you think she is?'_ Kind of thing?" I mock.

Demarco chuckles and says, "That's not true at all. You learned control faster than anyone else I've ever met, including Him. You never listened because you always did the right thing. Also, you never got in trouble with Satomi's pack, they love you over there!"

"Maybe," I answer, "But that Lucy chick, he definitely hates me,"

"Lucille," He corrects, "And Lucille literally hates everyone."

We let out a laugh and slowly wander into the woods, talking endlessly. God, I miss Demarco. I miss them all.

"Hey, why don't you run back to my car." He says, tossing me his keys. "There's a box in the trunk for you, don't open it until you get back here." He warns.

"Oooh, a present!" I tease as Demarco chuckles. I run off towards the house, following the sound of the electronic music, back to Demarco's car.

* * *

_**A/N: A little tip, I made Satomi's pack a separate one and I have my reasons for it. Also, yes, Marina and Demarco are very close. Only three years apart. Spent the last three years or so in the same pack, bonding, as well as Carrie.**_

_**More on cigarettes, reisha tea, and assassins next week on Beacon Hills: Ye Olde Bridewell.**_


	7. Chapter 7: Love Me Lights Out

Dear reader, if you have remained up to date with the teen wolf series, then from the previous chapters you have read undoubtedly you understand what comes next. Such trauma was instilled in our protagonist that she, rather than refusing, was simply unable to narrate some parts of her story. Therefore, what she was able to write down will be published in her own words and the rest shall be filled in, as usual for when not a primary source, in third person by yours truly, the Alpha.

* * *

Maybe it's a bunch of old DVD's. Demarco knows how much I love classic movies- ooh, maybe it's a bunch of old CD's! Who knows how many times I've shaken the small wooden box in my hands, listening closely to hear it's contents. From Demarco's car, I took the "gift" he spoke of from his backseat, along with a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. He won't mind, considering he owes me a pack.

I know what you're thinking. 'You're seventeen, young lady! You shouldn't smoke!' or how about, 'Smoking kills, you know! It can give you lung cancer!'

Yes, well guess what. I'm a fucking werewolf, my lungs repair themselves. I get the buzz without the fuzz on my lungs.

Lighting one up, I'm stumped. Nothing can be deciphered by the muffled thud the object(s) inside makes. Following Demarco's undeniable scent (more like an odour, really) back into the deep forest, my mind races between the possible answers of two questions: 1) What was inside this box and 2) Why was Demarco giving me it's contents? While pondering on these inquires, I seemed to have gotten a bit distracted. I had been following Demarco's distinct scent for quite some time, much farther past the area I had left him. Perhaps he wondered off and expected me to follow, and there is only one place I can think of that he would go to. At the edge of the forest lies a large boulder just in front of a cliff, a spot where we frequently visited. Making my way there, I catch his scent once more and my assumption is confirmed.

I take a deep breath, expecting to get a nostril full of fresh pine and grass when the reality cause me to drop the cigarette from my mouth, it hits the grass and I put it out with my foot. The unmistakable metallic scent of blood mingled through the cold air, planting worry in my mind and sending a chill down my spine. Quickening my pace, I notice two sets of footprints, tire tracks and the occasional drops of blood. Panicking, I sprint through the forest calling out for Demarco as a thick set of clouds conceal the moon, leaving the forest incredibly dim. With no response, I step out of the forest and see Demarco perched upon the boulder bending down in some sort of way- most likely holding his head in his hands as he does when he's thinking too hard. I approach him at ease, standing to the side of him.

"Jesus, Demarco. You gave me a heart attack, didn't you hear me calling?" I half-shout at him, not giving him time to reply. "Anyways, what's in this dumb thing?" I ask, pretending I have no interest in the box whatsoever and that I did not, in fact, spend the last five or ten minutes clawing my brains out in curiosity. I nudge him in the back for an answer, when something rolls off his lap and hits my feet. I crouch down and squint at the object, until the clouds roll away and the moon shines bright and illuminates at my feet...

the lifeless head of Demarco.

* * *

Our poor protagonist was shocked. She had seen many people die tragic deaths at young ages in Beacon Hills, though she always assumed her beloved friend was immune to such fatalities. The young Demarco was everything to Marina Pond. He was a friend in whom she was able to confide in- someone of her stature was in desperate need of someone like him. The relationship they had built was full of trust, they had formed a bond by helping each other control their animalistic instincts against the rough full moons that their teenage lives brought them. They were family and their phenomenal Alpha had brought them together. She had lost her family twice in her lifetime, both times where she felt at fault. With Demarco, if only she brought him with her to his car. With her parents- well, there was no possible way for her to prevent it, but she was surely still at fault. Who else was she to turn to but her Alpha?

After the shock had passed, Marina layed her friend's body on the ground and wept without gracefulness. She emitted a gross, painful sobbing mixed with hiccups and runny snot. She hugged his cold corpse dearly, not daring to let go. How long she stayed like this, we do not know. She only stirred when she finally felt the presence of someone coming forth. Two people, actually! Could they be offering help? Unlikely, it's the full moon and they're on the outskirts of a forest in the middle of the night. Perhaps it was those who took Demarco's life, and what if they came to take hers too? The roar of a beta neared and she could tell that two werewolves; a young beta and an alpha, were heading in her direction. The earth rumbled from their rapid footsteps as the two figures approached.

All Marina saw was red. Through the red she could sense two werewolves. This motivated her to do more than just ceasing to weep. She stood tall, a few feet in front of Demarco's lifeless corpse, and spreading her feet apart defensively she let the full moon take control. In just seconds, her face contorted and transformed- the bone structure changing and evolving.

Her nails grew agonizingly quick, changing to a yellowish-brown colour with the tips sharpening to razors. Her small canine teeth extended out from her gums, now elongated and sharp enough to rip through raw flesh. Finally, had anyone been spectating, they would not have missed how in the moon light her dreamy and vivacious eyes changed colour from a mesmerizing golden brown to a luminescent glowing red.

While her features changed, as did her attitude. The young beta was unaware of whom he was naively charging towards in the midst of his tantrum, though the alpha knew to be weary. When it seemed the young beta would not stop, Marina grew furious. She let out the most ferocious and terrifying roar she could manage; full of remorse, despair, anger, and the most terrifying of all- brokenness.

A broken teenage girl is pitied. A broken teenage alpha she-wolf is avoided at all costs if one desires to escape with their head still attached. This growl which made her seem gruesome and all the while beautifully terrifying stopped the untamed beta in his tracks, who immediately turned and cowered behind his alpha, whimpering. This amateuristic alpha, who definitely noticed the dead body on the ground that she had been weeping over, raised his arm towards her and barely lifted his right foot off the ground when she let out another growl, this one short, loud, ferocious and to the point- saying: LEAVE AT ONCE.

The beta turned on his heels and ran, the full moon taking advantage of him and setting him into another frenzy. The male alpha stood still for a moment, pondering on whether to comfort this broken she-wolf whom he formerly thought to be a hunter, or at least just human, or to chase after the wild young beta struggling against the full moon. He decided the latter had the power to injure or kill someone, and ran off in search of his beta- leaving the she-wolf to mourn over her friend.

What was she to do? She needed help and couldn't just leave her former pack member's corpse deserted by the forest. Satomi's pack was too far from where she stood.

Instead, she pulled out her cell phone and called the only one who would know what to do.

"Marina," He said expectantly.

"I need your help." She said, her voice weak and trembling.

"Woah, woah. Slow down, take a deep breath, then tell me what's wrong."

Words failed her. All she could huff out was, "Cliff point. Demarco. Help." Marina was having trouble breathing, for she was having a panic attack- something she hadn't endured since before she was bitten. She was struggling with coming to terms that this was reality, and in fact not some sadistic night terror.

All the while, her dependable Alpha- my apologies, her dependable former Alpha had kept her speaking on the phone until he arrived at the cliff point.

"Ah, my poor child." He said, pulling her into an embrace. Her body trembled in his arms, she was alight and she was safe.

* * *

_**A/N: So here we have the Alpha sort of mingling in the story a bit, all the third person parts were written by him. Everyone on this damn show has lost someone dear to them, and I just had to integrate Demarco into Marina's life. I feel like the Alpha should be Peter's even-more-evil evil twin, or something along those lines. Oooo or maybe Gerard-like. Let me know how you would like his character to come off as- Javert or Jean Valjean? **_

_**More on Lacrosse, jealous orphans, reisha tea, alphas and promotions coming up.**_


	8. Chapter 8: All The Petty Things

_**Song of the chapter: This Head I Hold by Electric Guest**_

* * *

Demarco's body was taken away, some kid named Brett hauled his corpse into a car on the main road. The Alpha, Lee, thought it would be good to show him the rawness of the supernatural world. I think Lee also wanted him to meet me. The usually busy road is desolate at this hour.

He's a big man, quite tall and muscular, with dark skin. His voice is deep and rumbling, and his entire manor screams authority. Probably in his early thirties. I didn't know much about Lee from before he met Demarco and I, and I don't know anything about him from before he was bitten.

His presence jump starts my brain cells, and I decide I will have to mourn my friend later because there is much to do. Lee promises to take care of all arrangements regarding... the funeral, and what not.

While I push the heavy sadness to the back of my mind, something else shifts to the front. Stiles and Malia must still be in the basement, Lydia still with a horde of freshmen. Liam and Scott are about in the woods, just waiting to run into a 9th grader who's had one to many beers. As soon as I remember this I take off, leaving Lee and Brett standing on the road with a million questions and for once, Lee doesn't run after me. I run back into the horrid forest, searching for some sign of either the alpha or beta. While I'm at it, I search for signs of anyone else- hoping to find some inkling of a clue to who the murderer possibly could've been. I go for quite some time with out any luck, until I smell it. That smelly smell that smells so horrid yet so sensual that you never quite forget it but when you try to remember what it smells like, you just can't.

It smells like.. Abercrombie & Fitch. A ridiculous notion in the middle of the woods, I know, but Liam had that same cologne on when I picked him up. They had been here.

To my misfortune, I follow the disturbing Abercrombie & Fitch scent until I lock on and am met with Scott's distinguishable scent as well. It seems one had tackled the other, and not to Scott's favor.

"What did you do to me?" A frustrated voice cries out some feet away. Undoubtedly, that was Liam.

"This is your fault!" He continues. I sprinted to where his voice echoed from and witnessed him pinning Scott to the bark of a tree, uncontrollably yelped away. "Oh, this is all your fault!"

If Scott hadn't have dug his teeth into Liam's arm, Liam would not have survived the fall from the rooftop of the hospital to the pavement. Scott had saved his life and in some forms, enhanced it. It was Liam who dealt with ferocious anger, anger which withheld him from currently controlling himself. Anger, which could kill someone.

"This is your fault!" He belts out once more, trembling with hatred and frustration. He raises his arm to strike Scott but I step in and grab his arm. His head whips back, seething in anger, until he recognizes me and hesitates.

One low growl is all it takes from me to send Liam a few steps back. When he seems to have calmed down, Scott and I take a step towards him. Unfortunately, he was not calm. His muscles tensed up and he clenched his jawed as he raised his arms once again, this time to strike both of us. That is when something of an arrow was shot. Turning my head, a fuzzy white haze clouds my eyes and I hit the ground on my knees. From this position, I could sense Scott hitting the ground next to me as Liam cried out, blinded, like a vampire would when exposed to sunlight in a Hollywood movie. Finally, the poor child turned and ran someway into the forest in hopes of regaining visibility.

I couldn't see anything for a few moments, but I recognized the presences and scents of the figures coming towards us. A hunter, who for the most part, killed quite a few werewolves with his father Gerard. The word is that since the death of his wife, he turned a new page when it came to the supernatural. The recent death of his daughter, Allison, drew him away from Beacon Hills entirely. As soon as a the white fuzz had faded, the first face I saw was that of Christopher Argent. Behind him stood Lee.

At first speechless, Scott huffed out, "How did you know?"

Lee helped me off the ground as Chris helped Scott, the former hunter saying, "I got your text."

I would ask Lee how he knew, but I've known him for so long that he knows everything on my mind without me telling it.

Scott and Chris greet each other but Lee and I turn to Chris.

"Marina, it's okay, he's cool." Scott assures me.

"No he's not." Lee says firmly.

"Excuse me?" Chris says, offended.

Lee chimes in with, "You know, you've killed a lot of us. You and Gerard."

Realization dawns on his face, followed quickly by guilt and then remorse.

"Truth be told," I start, "There's no time to settle differences. We have a rogue beta on the loose, remember?"

"Right," Chris says, approving of me. "There's a clearing just north of here, all you have to do is corral him there and the rest is taken care of."

"What're you gonna do?" Lee asks him tensely, as if not wanting to hear an answer. I suppose he expects him to fulfill his duty as a hunter.

"He's your beta, Scott." Chris reminds the other teen alpha, "The better question is; what are you going to do?"

"He won't listen to me," Scott admits with a sigh. "Or Marina," He adds. Chris looks to me, perplexed.

"He will if you both work together and start using your own words-" Chris is interrupted by a shrill scream from Liam a few paces north. The high pitched frequency noises must be brutal on him. Chris hands Scott a device to control the ill-inducing products he used in the past to corral supernatural creatures to their deaths.

When Scott turns those vile tools off, Liam sits on the ground in front of us on his hands and knees. Looking upwards, his breathing ragged and tears in his eyes, he wants to ask a million questions. All he manages is a shaky "what's happening to me?" Well, this we can certainly work with. He has now excepted that he has changed and, hopefully, he'll be seeking our aid.

"The same thing that happened to us," Scott answers, crouching down to look Liam eye to eye

"What... exactly happened to you two?" He asks, searching for answers.

"I was bitten by a werewolf. So was Scott." I say blatantly. Then, with a softer tone I add, "Then we turned into werewolves, and we struggled but finally we were able to find control. From there everything only got better."

"So he bit me," Liam says slowly, pointing at Scott, "And now I'm going to turn into whatever he is?"

Scott nods his head, then says, "It sounds crazy, but trust me- I know. You need to learn control and we can make it that much better for you if you let us help you." Lee and Chris stand silently, watching.

"They can't know about this," Liam whispered in desperation. "My mom, my step dad. I can't do this to them again."

"What do you mean again?" Scott asks. Of course! Liam was kicked out of his last school because he trashed a teacher's car in a fit of rage. This could be an advantage- something to motivate him to control his anger.

"I got kicked out of school," He admits. Finally, we hear the truth from him. "...And I deserved it. The way the looked at me- when they saw what I did to that car-" His voice falters, and he sits in front of us weeping.

"Liam, it's okay." Scott assures him.

"They can't see me like this." Liam says through tears, "L- like..."

"...Like a monster?" Scott finishes. Waif-like, Liam nods his head.

Scott stands back up, now shoulder to shoulder with me. "You're not a monster." He says.

Firmly, as Scott and I show off our true red eyes, I add, "You're a werewolf, like us."

* * *

_**A/N: So here we meet Lee Everett (Yes, I stole him from The Walking Dead series by Tell Tale- so he looks like Lee but acts more like Kenny)**_

_**Thank you all so much for favouriting, following and adding me/this story to your alerts, you can't possibly imagine how much I appreciate every single view I get; from all sorts of different countries (some of which I wasn't familiar with!)**_


	9. Chapter 9: I Know I'm Bad News

_**Song of the chapter: Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy**_

* * *

Just two days after Demarco's decapitation, Carrie's headless body was found with multiple stab wounds; the weapon still unidentified. Lee was furious, I was heartbroken. I had known her almost as long as I had known Demarco.

It seems something of a supernatural hit list was created. The Walcott family was on it at 250 thousand each. Lydia for 20 million, Scott for 25 million, Demarco for 250 thousand, Derek for 15 million, Carrie for 500 thousand, Kira for 6 million, a few other names I recognized, and me.

I was worth 35 million dollars.

It wasn't the price that baffled me, just the fact that I was worth more than Scott McCall. I was worth more than Demarco and Carrie, more than Kira, and more than Derek. I just don't understand, these people should all be worth triple of whatever I'm worth.

Stiles goes on, trying to understand and dissect these murders. The way he speaks, it's as if these names -David; Michael; Christina and Sean Walcott, Demarco and Carrie- they're all just statistics to him, just victims.

To discover this deadpool, Lydia had absent-mindedly written a code. In order to understand this code, she needed a cipher key. Unfortunately, it was Allison. A sweet girl, and beloved daughter of Chris Argent, who was killed. Using her name, Lydia was able to break a third of the list. Two thirds to go meant two other cipher keys to find, which put immense pressure on Lydia. So immense, that she had spent the entire weekend at her grandmother's lake house, desperately listening for any clues. All this, I found out just a few hours before I had to go to school.

"You didn't know about Demarco or Carrie, right?" Stiles father, Sheriff Stilinksi asks. Scott and Stiles shake their heads. This entire time I've been sitting in the corner of the office as they inform the Sheriff of their findings, all the while as I hear this information for the first time. "What about these other two names on the list; Kayleen Bettcher and Elias Town, are they werewolves too?"

"I don't know," Scott admits.

"They are werewolves." I say, finally speaking after an hour of taking in information. "Both betas. Demarco and Carrie too."

"You knew them?" The Sheriff asks, slightly surprised to be getting any response from me.

"Yes, very well." I answer, my heart beat spiking as I fight tears.

"Deaton did say that the nemeton would draw supernatural creatures here." Scott says, chiming in.

"Here being Beacon Hills, or Beacon County? The population of Beacon Hills is just under 30 thousand-"

"And dropping," Stiles interjects.

Continuing, Sheriff says, "If we're talking Beacon County, then you're looking at closer to 500 thousand. How many werewolves, banshees, kitsunes- whatever the hell's out there's are we talking about?"

Turns out, there's a limit to how many names can be on the list. Once the names have been decoded, the numbers will add up to 127. That's one hundred and twenty-seven million (dollars). Just so happens to be the same amount stolen from the Hale vault which is now being used by someone to finance all these murders.

Someone who wants all supernaturals in Beacon Hills dead.

Someone who goes by the handle; The Benefactor.

So, the coded list goes out and somehow these assassins get that list, along with a cipher key. Then, they go after the names on the list. Stiles asks his father what Carrie's wounds are from, holding out the pictures.

I see the multiple stab wounds indented into her skin and the acid in my stomach turns, slowly crawling it's way up. I quickly turn around, avoiding looking at the pictures.

"There's one other thing I don't get." Sheriff says, "How did the new assassin know that Demarco was going to be at the lake house?"

"Everyone knows Demarco delivers kegs to teenagers for a little extra cash," I answer, turning back to face the Sheriff. Stiles pulls up pictures of Demarco's decapitation and I leave the office immediately. Rushing out of the police department, I sit on the curb and try to pull myself together. A young police officer pulls up and parks near the curb I sit on, sending me a glance before retrieving a supposed criminal from his backseat.

I recognize her from school, she's in my art class. Dark skin, powerful opinions, and creatively styled hair, Keely recognizes me as well. Large, busty and beautiful in every sense, she sends a wink to the deputy as he leads her inside.

Curiosity overcomes me and I listen in to the conversation inside. Turns out, she was caught sneaking around the Walcott's house. What the hell would she be doing there? While listening in to the deputy on Keely, I begin to hear Stile's voice and I snap back, wanting to know none of what he says. To keep myself busy, I think of the Lacrosse scrimmage we'll be having tonight. It seems a bit ridiculous to me that with everything going on; assassins, a benefactor, the murder of two dear friends- I have to go play Lacrosse. Though I don't mind, it gives me the chance to forget what goes on and just focus on the game. Plus, my grandparents are coming to watch which means I have to play at my best.

* * *

I rode to school early that day for a lacrosse meeting, following Scott and Stiles in that blue jeep. Well, I wouldn't really call it a meeting, more like Coach wants to pump us up for our first scrimmage. The entire team shows up, as is mandatory, including Scott, Stiles, Malia, Kira, myself, Liam, Garret and then some.

Kira, Malia and I linger outside the boys locker room.

"Are we even allowed to go in there?" Kira asks, nervously clutching a binder.

"It hasn't stopped anyone before." I say, "And besides, we're on the team. If Coach is going to have a team meeting in the boys locker room, he should expect the whole team to show up." Kira and I turn to Malia to hear her opinion, but she's already opened the door.

"You coming or what?" She asks, perplexed at our initial hesitation. One step in and an overpowering cologne fills my nostrils.

"Ooh, yuck! I hate Axe," I say.

"Me too," Kira sighs.

"Yeah, I bet you're more of an old _spice girl_, aren't you?" I tease, poking her in her stomach. She giggles at my lame pun and swats my hand away, when we see Coach walking towards us with his clipboard in hand.

"Ladies, I'm in the middle of roll-call, you can't be in here!" He cries out, annoyed. Unfortunately, we were never presented with the opportunity of removing our helmets in front of Coach during the tryouts and practices.

"Coach, I'm on the team." Kira says blankly.

"Oh." Coach says, blinking. "Right. Well, get over here. I'm sorry but your friends can't be in here." The whole team is now staring at us, some whispering rude things.

"What?" Malia cries out angrily.

"Hate to break it to you, Coach," I say, swaggering over to the rest of the team, "But we're on the team too."

How strange we must seem in his eyes, three teenage girls interrupting a lacrosse meeting. Kira, with her hair in two braids and shorts with stockings. Malia with her wild eyes and floral top. And me, with my curled hair, heeled ankle boots and relatively revealing V-neckline.

"I'm not following," Coach says, genuinely confused.

"Yukimura here," Kira says, pointing at his clipboard. After a moment, Coach lifts his pen and writes Kira as present.

"Tate." Malia says firmly. Realization dawns on Coach's face as he ticks Malia as present.

"Pond," I say, pausing quite dramatically, "Marina Pond."

Coach's mouth hangs open and he stares at us for quite sometime, untill someone coughs uncomfortably and reminds him we're supposed to be having a meeting.

"Right, well... That's it. You three are my prize players." He says it as a statement, though it sounds more like a question.

Slightly annoyed at his reaction, I say, "Coach, is this going to be a problem? We just want to play lacrosse, I don't understand why you might have any objections, seeing as we are quite exceptional players."

"No. No objections." He says, as though he's telling himself this. "You three are my prize players," He repeats, this time with conviction.

After roll-call, Coach launches into what he expects from us tonight and how this is no regular game. The point of the scrimmage, contrary to what some players might believe, is to execute team work. Tonight's match is about showing Devenford Prep that we, Beacon High, play clean and play together- as a team. As coach speaks, I catch Liam's gaze on me more than once. I'm not sure he knew I was on the team. Scott and Stiles must've known, considering Scott can sense Kira and Malia.

After the meeting, most of the team lingers in the locker room to chat about, but Coach Finstock calls me into his office.

Entering, I see him seated at his desk, rubbing his temples with a large mug of coffee in front of him.

"Coach, everything alright?" I ask.

He sighs, then motions for me to sit down. I take a seat, and it seems he struggles to search for the right words.

"Okay," He finally says, throwing up his hands in defeat, "I'll just say it. I did not mean to offend you. I just.. I was surprised, that's all."

"Who else do you know named Pond?" I ask dubiously.

"In my defense, there's a freshman named Pond too, okay? I guess this explains why he was always so confused when ever I brought up lacrosse.."

"Seriously?" I snort out, laughing.

He smiles at seeing me smile, then says, "So you're not upset?"

"To be honest? I thought you wouldn't keep me on the team." I admit.

"What?" Coach says, as if it were a ridiculous notion.

"I thought you would've told us to form a separate girl's team. I guess that's why I never took my helmet off in front of you." I confess. Whether these thought resided in the heads of Malia or Kira, I did not know.

"Pond, that's crazy talk!" He says loudly. Though he meant to scold me, I grinned at this.

"So we can play tonight?" I ask.

"Of course! You're first line."


	10. Chapter 10: I Chose The Things That Last

_**Song of The Chapter: Crazy Bird by Wild Child**_

* * *

Being a junior has its perks. For instance, there's only a select few courses that are mandatory. Because of this, I was able to squeeze a square block into my schedule.

You see, most teachers at Beacon High are on a pretty chill level with me. Today, I decided to hit the gym during my spare, hoping to subdue my mind and awaken muscles before the scrimmage tonight. To my luck, a teacher I greatly despise has her freshman class trying out the gym. I may find Ms. Corridor distasteful, but she's rather fond of me and welcomes me into the gym. It seemed that the girls in the class opted to go on a nature walk with one of the other classes.

Trying to ignore them all, I hit the leg press first since my calf's are my strongest muscles. I set the weight to 45 pounds to begin, play my playlist through headphones connected to my phone, and zone out. At least, I tried to zone out.

What can I say? I was on the leg press wearing shorts and a tight shirt revealing my stomach and all the while surrounded by 9th grade boys. I recognized some, like Garret, Liam and Mason, but others were completely unknown to me. Regardless, it seemed that all those boys I didn't know definitely tried to get my attention. After every few sets I would take a quick break and add more weight to the press, but the teenagers around me tried so hard to show off. One of them even took their shirt off (only after Ms. Corridor had left to go to her office because the class was 'in good hands now that Marina's keeping an eye on you all."), there wasn't much underneath, though.

Since Ms. Corridor decided to leave her class, I figured I should leave the earbuds out and watch over the freshmen incase someone truly needed my attention. I walk over to Liam, who was lifting 30 pound weights on the bar bell, and Mason, who was "lifting" 3 pound dumbbells.

"You know how I keep reminding Derek to give back my hoodie?" Mason asks Liam. Liam seems too distracted to listen and Mason seems too distracted to expect a reply from Liam.

Liam mumbles, "Yeah," as he rises from the bench and adds another 15 pounds to each end of the bar.

"Well, I remembered you said he lived in that housing development on Spawlding, so I went there. And guess what? That housing development? It's still in development!" He says in surprise. Seems like Mason is turning out to be a young Stiles in the making.

Not quite sure where the conversation is going, Liam says, "So?"

"There are no houses yet. So, unless the dude lives in some bat-cove, there's something he's not telling us." I grabbed a couple 12 pound dumbbells and made Mason switch, who almost dropped them right away. Liam adds more weights to the bar, but I just assume they're ten pounders.

"If it's the Derek I know that you're talking about, I would get another hoodie." I say to him seriously. After realizing how spooky that sounded, I smile and Mason laughs at my "joke." I walk on and adjust a few people's techniques, still listening to their conversation.

"And then there's this other dude, man. He's been acting really strange," Mason continues on, "Running to school for no reason, disappearing at parties... He used to be my best friend." While waiting for a response, Mason glances at Liam and adds, "And.. is apparently on steroids." Turning my head, I see Liam had added six 45 pound weights to each side of the bar.

"What?" Liam asks, confused. He turns to Mason as he expects an explanation.

"You're not seriously going to try to lift that, are you?" Mason asks in disbelief.

"Liam," I say sternly, walking back to him. With a softer and quieter tone I add, "Are you alright? Are you worried about the game tonight?"

"I'm fine," He says, brushing it off. "It's just a scrimmage."

"You know who you're playing, right?" Masons asks. Some prep school called Devenford.

"Yeah," He says at first. "...I mean no. I guess I missed the announcement."

"Liam, it's your old school."

For some unfathomable reason, after hearing this news I called Scott from my cell just outside the gym doors.

"Marina?" He answered, confused. "Uh, it's not the best time, Mrs. Martin is up my ass right now."

Trying to decide whether he was being literal or figurative, I say, "Scott, we have an issue."

Listening carefully, he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Do you know why Liam got kicked out of his old school?" I ask. Yes, I had heard the rumours from Stiles, though I never listened to him long enough to learn what the freshman had done.

"Yeah, apparently he trashed a teacher's car and the whole school turned on him, why?"

"Well, do you remember the name of the school he went to?" I ask, hoping he understands the situation.

"No, I don't- sorry." He says honestly.

"It was Devenford Prep."

It took him four incredibly long seconds to understand.

Scott mumbles, "Oh. Shit."

In a hushed whisper I say, "This kid had trouble keeping track of his heart beat before he was bit, imagine it now. Between the heckling teenagers of the other team and his heightened sensitivity, we have a serious issue on our hands."

"Okay, what do we do?" He asks. I pause, without a reply. I called Scott to see what his plan was, I was ready to follow his orders. Why is he asking me?

"Uh, Derek would know what to do, right?" I suggest. "After all, he's done it once before- with you."

"That might be true, but I didn't have severe temper tantrums. Let's hope we can figure something out." He says.

"Scott," I begin, before he hangs up.

"Yeah?"

"I hope you realize, but.. you won't be able to stop Liam from playing."

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"Did it stop you from playing? I don't think so. He's going to play, so we have to find out how to keep him safe. We're both on the deadpool, he might be on the other two-thirds."

"Do you think he's in danger?" He asks me.

"I think.. no one is safe. Not really."

After on and off calls with Scott, he finally tells me to meet them in the boys locker room where Derek is already speaking with Liam. When I get there, Scott waits for me outside the door. He opens it and leads the way, and we stand shoulder to shoulder some feet behind Liam- who just watched Derek snap a lacrosse stick in half. If he used his senses, literally his senses, he would smell Greenberg's scent on it. Instead, he charges towards Derek with his beta-yellow eyes. Derek, with a smirk on his lips, grabs Liam by his neck and pins him against some lockers. He snarls and snaps ferociously, all this for a lacrosse stick? Scott nods to me and I step up, taking my cue.

"Liam," I say quietly. Liam tunes to my voice and calms down slightly, though when his eyes land on Scott and I, his breathing becomes quite ragged.

"You're right," Derek admits to me, "He is angry." With that, he let his grip go and Liam leaned over, massaging his neck. He looks to me with that betrayed look that he so often sends me, with faded away to confusion when I handed him a lacrosse stick from behind my back.

"This one's yours," Scott says from behind me. He tosses him the stick and Liam catches is, along with a flinch.

The bell rings, echoing all throughout the school. "Get to class Liam." Scott says.

When he turns to me expecting an explanation, I simply say, "You've got a game to play." With a pat on his back, I follow him out of the locker room considering we share the next class together.

Since the art department in Beacon Hills is so underfunded, most of the art courses are combined classes. I stop at my locker with Liam and grab my sketchbook, when he shifts on his feet uncomfortably.

Closing my locker, I ask "What?" due to his reeking anxiety.

"Are you really letting me play the game tonight?" He asks, biting his pouty lower lip.

Gesturing for him to follow me, I say "Nope."

His heart sinks and he looks at the ground, mumbling "Knew it."

"I mean, I'm not letting you do anything." I say, trying to elaborate. "What you do isn't up to us. If you feel you'll be putting anyone in danger then it's up to you to decide to sit out of this game."

"I still don't understand," He admits.

"When Scott was bit, he refused to sit out of his first game even after Derek told him not to. When Derek was struggling with controlling himself in highschool, he also refused to sit out of his games. Even I wouldn't sit out when I was struggling. We have no right to keep you out of your first game. The outcome of tonight is up to you, but Scott and I will be there to help you, no matter what happens."

When we enter the art class, Malia hovers over Lydia in front of a large sketchbook propped on an easel.

Before joining his friends, Liam gazes at me. Through his eyes, I thought he would've leaned in and kissed me. He shakes his head, as if deciding against something, then playfully punches me in the arm and says, "Thanks."


	11. Chapter 11: Don't Play With A Boss

_**Story of the Chapter: Or Nah (Remix Feat. The Weekend) **_

* * *

"Hey, wanna be partners?" I ask Marina. Mrs. Larocque just set an assignment, and unfortunately the project is to be done in pairs. I already know that since the art course she's taking is Art 12, Marina's actually supposed to be doing an independent study and should be working on an art history project on Vincent Van Gogh. The class has 29 people, which means everyone should have a partner without her, but it seems someone's missing today.

"Uh..." she contemplates, "Sure, Keely." I suppose she doesn't want to be rude. "Mind catching me up? I wasn't paying attention."

"Yeah, totally. So I think we're supposed to do portraits of our partners, but using different things like charcoal or pastel and what not."

"Sounds cool." She says, pulling out her sketchbook. I grab some mediums from the front of the classroom, some charcoal sticks, some chalk pastels, some oil pastels, and conté sticks. I'll admit, I have my motives. She was sitting outside the police building this morning, and inside the Sheriff's office was Scott and Stiles. I'll never get anything from Scott or Stiles, though, that damn pretty boy Stiles seems to be suspicious of me. She, on the other hand, knows something. I've heard her name pop out from my dad's mouth a few times over the phone. He's left me with so many questions. Always so secretive. I was driving and I saw dad's car outside the Walcott's house a few days after their murder. I went back this morning to investigate, to try to piece things together, but that hottie of a deputy was doing a patrol and caught me.

Well, as long as it was him I don't really mind.

When I sit back down, she lets me draw her first. We're suppose to try and tie in elements of the other's personality, but I don't know too much about Marina. Just that she's on the Lacrosse team and recently started hanging out with Scott's clique.

"What's your favourite animal?" I ask her, "Might as well as squeeze in some image development strategies while I can."

"Hmm," she thinks, "A dragon."

"I can't even draw a water bottle, how am I going to draw a fucking dragon!" I say as she laughs.

"Okay, um..." After a moment of thinking, she decides "A wolf."

"Okay," I agree, "I can work with that, because you're so ferocious. You'll be a badass werewolf!" She smiles at her feet, blushing.

With chalk pastels, I begin with thick and harsh lines with bold colours. "So, what were you doing at the police station?" I ask, hoping to find some answers.

"Hey, I wasn't the one being arrested by that deputy." She points out.

"Mm, but you wouldn't mind get arrested by that deputy, would you?" I say with a wink and a grin. She laughs, then makes awkward eye contact with a cute freshman from across the room. "I was 'trespassing on a crime scene.'"

"Oh?" She inquires. Lifting my hand from the paper, some chalk has smudged all over my right hand.

"What can I say, the murder of the Walcott family intrigued me. Something doesn't feel right, something they've left out of the papers."

"Yeah," She snorts, "Well, Beacon County has a way of doing that."

"It's not just that, though." I continue, hoping to get something more, "My dad's been acting kinda sketchy. Like, the other day I saw his car parked outside their house. When I asked him about it, he just brushed me off." I put the pastel done and show her the finished result, half her beautiful face and half a ferocious wolf- both with a cartoonish quality. Handing the loose sheet to her, I say "Your turn."

* * *

"Is that so?" I ask, trying to understand where this is going. I wait for her to go on, but she looks to me for answers. I sigh, then pick up oil pastels.

"What's your favourite animal?" I ask.

"Be original." Keely insists.

"Okay.. What's your favourite element?"

"What, like avatar?" She asks, teasing.

"Yeah, like avatar."

"Okay, uh.. fire." She decides.

"Air? Sounds good to me!" I say. How the fuck am I supposed to draw fire? She rolls her eyes at me with a smirk at her lips.

I chalk out the outline of her face and features with a light grey oil pastel, then create outlines for ripples in the sky, like Van Gogh typically did. "You see, this relates to you because you always see things a little differently."

"Much better than my prompt.." She mutters under her breath. I distort and exaggerate her features, using neutral colours on her face and bold colours on the sky. "I was at the station to help out with a case." I admit quietly.

"Was it the Walcott's case?" She demands eagerly, "Do you know how my dad's involved?"

"Sorta, the Walcott's are one of many cases involved. You've heard of.." I hesitate, struggling to swallow, "Carrie and Demarco, haven't you?"

"Yeah," She says quietly. "My dad would talk to them on the phone pretty often. I know you were close with Demarco, I'm so sorry."

"I'm fine," I say, sniffling. "Anyways, the Sheriff just wanted to ask me some questions," I lied.

"Hmm," She contemplates, not entirely sure if she believes me. "You know, I can help."

I rub my temple and whisper, "Not with this, you can't." Finishing the portrait, I sign the corner then tear the paper out of my sketchbook and slide it to her.

"Then at least tell me how my dad is involved!" She whispers angrily.

"I don't even know who your dad is," I say honestly, raising my arms.

Impatiently, she says "Keely Everett. I'm Lee Everett's daughter."

Involuntarily, my arms fall as my eyebrows raise themselves and my jaw drops slightly. My initial thought is how much does she know? Then the surprise fades and turns into annoyance. Lee has a daughter and he never told me? Is she a werewolf too? Or is she human? She looks human, definitely smells normal. But how would Lee not tell her? How would she not figure out what he is? After all, he's been a wolf longer than the rest of us.

"You want answers?" I ask, pulling out my phone, "So would I." I drag her out into the desolated hallway, Mrs. Larocque not seeming to notice or care. I dial Lee's number and put the phone to my ear, Keely pressing her face to the other side of my phone to hear as much as she can.

"Why do you have my dad's number?" She asks in a whisper. I hush her as the phone rings and finally, he answers.

"Marina, hey. Everything alright?"

"I don't know, Lee. Why don't we ask my new friend." With that, Keely took the phone.

"Dad? How do you know Marina?" Oh, the poor girl. She probably thinks her dad's some sort of drug lord or a pimp, dealing with all these teenagers.

"Keely?" He chokes out, utterly surprised. I leave her to speak to her dad and walk back into the art class with only a few minutes left to the bell.

Malia sits by Lydia in front of a still empty canvas, and I as I near them Malia says, "Maybe we need help."

"Hmm," I say loudly so as to catch their attention, "Maybe you do. You've had a whole block and still an empty canvas? You know you have to actually put the pencil to the paper, right?" Malia snorts and Lydia shoves me gently.

"From another banshee," Malia continues on. There's only one other banshee that comes to mind, and she's stuck in Eichen House at the moment. I volunteered there for a bit, but it gave me the spooks.

"Meredith." Lydia sighs out.

Just then, Keely re-enters the class and exasperatedly hands me back my phone.

"Scott called." She says, leaving me to Lydia and Malia.

"Scott?" I say, slightly alarmed.

"It's a Lacrosse player!" I hear Stiles shout into the phone. If '? ? ? ? ? ?' could be said aloud, this is when I would've said it.

"The killer's on the team," Scott explains.

"How do you know?" I ask, Malia and Lydia leaning in to hear the conversation.

"The stab wounds on Carrie," Stiles says over the phone in a loud whisper, "they're from a lacrosse stick. If you take the cap off the end, it matches the shape of the wound."

"Okay, you guys go to the locker room before the game and check all the sticks for... deadly weapons?" I suggest.

"Already on it," Kira says over the phone. "Meet us there at the bell."

I head out the door as soon as the bell rings, meaning to get to the lacrosse sticks quickly, but I run right into Keely.

"You never answered me." She says, pointing a finger at me. "What does my dad have to do with the Walcott's? Or your other friends for that matter?"

"Listen, I'd love to chat about what your dad may or may not be doing, but I have something I need to do." I say, abruptly walking off towards the locker rooms.

"Great, I'll come with you." She says, struggling to keep up with my quick stride.

"Why don't you just ask your dad?" I ask, annoyed.

"Because he won't fucking tell me anything!" Keely says, flustered. I pause in my tracks, surprising her.

"What is it that you think he's doing?" I ask, quite curious.

"I don't know.. dealing?" She shrugs.

She thinks Lee's dealing? I can work with that. "Okay, your dad did some business with the Walcott's a while ago. That's probably why he went back- either to get his money or to get.. his product." The look on her face was one of betrayal. Ooh, Lee's in deep shit.

After shaking her off, I headed to the locker rooms where the school's equipment is kept and upon entering I saw Scott, Stiles and Kira rummaging through lacrosse sticks, popping the ends off to check for lethal weapons.

"This is useless, half the team uses their own gear anyways." Scott says.

"Maybe instead of trying to find a lacrosse stick with a hidden dagger in it, we should be trying to get the game cancelled." I suggest. They turn their heads to me and slump in defeat.

"The game is the best way to catch him red handed," Scott points out.

"What if he's red handed because his hands are covered in the blood of the person that he just stabbed to death. Which, by the way, could be any of you guys." Stiles counters.

"Or Liam" Kira adds, looking to Scott with concern.

"We don't have the whole list and he could be on it," Scott says, turning to me.

"That's what I was thinking." I admit, "But we don't know anything about that list. How it's made, how it's updated?"

"She's right," Stiles says, "I mean, who's been out taking supernatural census' anyway?"

"How did they even know about me?" Kira asks. Turning to me, she says, "How did they even know about you?"

"They know about everyone," Scott says.

After Stiles suggest that we cancel the game, Scott looks to Kira.

"I'm not afraid." He admits.

"Neither am I," Kira says, taking his hand in hers. I raise my eyebrow in question to Stiles, who returns my confusion.

"Well, I'm terrified and I'm not even on the team!" Stiles cries out, pulling Kira and Scott out of their moment. "Guys, these are professional killers, it's their profession!" After a moment of blank stares from Scott, in a whisper he adds "One of them's got a thermal cut wire that cuts heads off. Who knows what else they have. "

I feel the smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, which quickly turns to a grin, which in turn makes me chuckle. Stiles stares at me as if I've gone mad.

"Do you think that's ever stopped a Lacrosse game before?"


	12. Chapter 12: Different From My Last

_**A/N: Sorry this chapter has taken so long! I was in a bit of a funk. **_

_**The song of the chapter is: Black Widow by Iggy Azalea ft. Rita Ora (how can you not love this song?) **_

* * *

After leaving the equipment room, I was going to the front of the school but my phone starts to play my favourite song aloud from my back pocket in a crowded hallway. Checking the ID, it says 'Ye Olde Folks.' I jump into the first empty class room I see, then swipe the screen to answer.

My grandpa had called to reassure me that they would both surely be attending my first game (It's just a scrimmage, grandpapa!)

"Bye now." I say, hanging up. I hear someone clear their throat and realize that I had not, in fact, entered an empty room.

Garrett stands awkwardly in the middle of the class, fumbling with his lacrosse stick.

"Oh!" I cry out, embarrassed. I mumble out "Sorry, thought this was an empty class. My bad."

"No worries," He says cheekishly.

"If you don't mind me asking," I start, curiosity possessing me, "What are you doing in here?"

"Just waiting for my girlfriend," He shrugs. "She wanted to talk."

"Yikes," I say, walking closer to him. "That's never a good thing."

"Yeah," He sighs, "She said I've been hanging out with too many older girls."

"Is that so?" I ask, raising my eyebrows and stifling laughter.

"Mmhhmm. She doesn't like the way I look at this one girl," He says, lowering his voice.

The smile wipes off my face as he grazes my arm with his fingers. He stares into my eyes the way a hunter would stare at game, and while I apprieciate his intentions, he creeps me out.

"Your girlfriend seems smart." I say seriously.

"Nah, she's as dumb as my dog." He says. His hands wander around my waist and he inches closer and closer until he decides to lean in all the way. I hear the door creak open and before he could kiss me, I jump back and swat away his hands. His girlfriend, Violet, glares right through me as I walk out the door.

It seems the Devenford prep school's bus had arrived just moments ago, and the first to walk out was a familiar face. Brett, he was there the night Demarco was killed. He sees me from where I stand and we hold a knowing gaze for a few seconds. A friend of his starts speaking and points something out, stealing his attention. I use this opportunity to walk up to the team, and while I meant to do this silently, most stare at me anyways with their eyebrows raised.

"Hey," He says with a flirtatious smile as I approach him.

"Hey there, Brett-" I pause for a moment, then point to him and add "It is Brett, right?"

He nods his head with a grin, then points to me and says, "And you're Marina. Lee's told me a lot about you."

"Really?" I ask, not surprised at all. Just as I am about to ask about the rest of the pack, a voice startles me.

"Liam, wait!" Mason cries, walking through the front doors of the school after Liam. "No. No, no no." He warns.

"Brett!" Liam calls out, striding towards us.

Turning to Brett, I plead "Please tell me you two don't have beef."

"You know this guy?" Brett huffs out to me, pointing at Liam accusingly.

"Oh, here we go." Mason mumbles out breathlessly. He stands beside me while Liam walks right up to Brett.

"I just wanted to say..." He starts, his nostrils flared, "... Have a good game." He raises his hand expectantly to Brett. The urge to slap my face was so strong that I could not resist it.

Brett begins to laugh obnoxiously and the rest of his teammates follow pursuit.

"That's cute Liam!" He cries out. Liam's cheeks blush and he looks down in disappointment. "Is that what they told you to say in anger management? Apologize, and everything's fine?" To remind Liam, as if he'd ever forget, Brett adds "You demolished_ Coach's_ car."

"I paid for it." Liam replies through gritted teeth.

"Yeah," Brett snorted, "You're gonna pay for it. We're gonna break you in half out there." As Brett continues on, Mason nudges me and I notice Liam's fist's clenched so tight that he's bleeding from digging his nails into his palm. "And it's going to be all your fault." As I'm about to interfere, Scott and Stiles beat me and quickly pull Liam away.

Stiles quickly interrupts with "Woah, woah! Hey hey hey, what's going on? Prep students! Welcome to our little public highschool, how you doing?" He extends a hand to Brett, who simply stares after Liam. What would we do with out Stiles the welcome wagon? "We're very excited for the scrimmage tonight, but let's keep it clean, alright? No rough stuff out there. Alright, see you out in the field."

Mason watches Scott and Stiles drag Liam away from next to me. The poor kid must have so many questions. I throw him a weak smile, then proceed to talk with Brett.

"I don't think Lee would appreciate the way you handled that." I warn.

His cool demeanor fades as his eyes bulge. "You won't tell him, will you? He already told me not to play today."

"Yeah, he's like that. I won't tell him anything if I don't have to."

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"Liam's under my protection. You hurt him, and you'll be wishing I told Lee instead."

He gulps silently and scratches his head. "Is it even fair to have that many werewolves on one team?"

"You would think we would actually be good." I say, snorting. "I think we could actually use a few more."

He chuckles and I notice his eyes twinkle. His presence reminds me of the rest of the pack, so I ask "How is everybody? Is Lorelee doing alright?"

"Everyone's alright, I guess just a little spooked. Lore's been asking about you a lot."

"Oh god, I should go visit her," I say to myself.

"No need, she's coming to the game tonight." He says.

"What?" I ask, excited but slightly scared. What if she's in danger? A werewolf at only 10, she's the closet thing to a sibling that I have.

"Well, she decided that if you won't visit her, she would visit you. Lee wasn't too happy about it."

"Oh, Lee isn't happy about anything," I muse. But then a thought occurs to me and very seriously I whisper, "Brett. Maybe Lee was right. She shouldn't come and you shouldn't play."

"What? You're crazy!" He cries out, gesturing at me.

"Seriously. I'm sure Lee's told you about Demarco and Carrie, how they died?"

Brett slowly nods his head. "There are assassins,_ killers_, out to get people like you and me. That includes Lore. I won't stop you from playing, but I'll warn you, we think the killer is going to make their move again- tonight. And apparently, it's someone on our lacrosse team."

"Thanks for the heads up," He nods, "But you're right. I'm still going to play, and you can bet your ass Lore is still going to come watch." He turns to walk away but I speak just loud enough so that he still hears my words.

"Mmm. Just remember that she's coming to watch _me_."

He turns furiously to say something to me, but I had walked back inside the school to find Liam.

To find Scott, Stiles _and_ Liam, I mean.

I follow their scent until I reach the locker room, and when I enter I see Scott and Stiles cramming Liam under a running shower as he snaps his fangs. After a few seconds of simply standing there musing to myself while they struggle, I decide to step in.

I walk towards Liam slowly and once he sees me, he roars in distress. I let my eyes go true and my fangs grow out as I let out a deep, low, rumbling growl which stops him from squirming in their arms. Still in wolf form, he stares at me as he breathes ruggedly. I continue walking forward until I get intimately close to him, until Scott and Stiles let go, until our foreheads touch and we're just centimeters apart in our human forms with my hand on his chest.

"Are you calm yet?" I ask through a smirk.

"Okay, okay." He breathes out, and I step back and let him sink to the ground, gasping for breath.

"That car you smashed?" Scott starts, "I thought you said it was your teacher's."

"He's also my coach," Liam points out, "He benched me for the entire season."

"What did you do?" Scott asks, concerned.

Looking away, he mumbles "I got a couple red cards."

"Just a couple!?" Stiles exclaims loudly, making Liam wince.

"You need to be honest with us" I say, "We can figure this out together."

"What else happened?" Scott asks.

"Nothing!" Liam cries out, exasperated, like a child does when asked if he stole a toy that he did, in fact, steal. "I got kicked out of school. They sent me to a psychologist for an evaluation."

"What did they call it?" Scott asks.

"Intermittent Explosive Disorder." Liam answers shamefully.

"I-E-D?! You're_ literally_ an IED?" Stiles asks, stupefied.

"Did they give you anything for it?" I ask, "Any medication or treatment?"

"Yeah, Risperdal. It's an anti-psychotic." It stings him to say all this aloud, and yet he continues still. "But I don't take it!"

"Obviously!" Stiles snapped. His brashness brakes my patience and I "gently" punch him in the arm for being so inconsiderate.

"I can't play lacrosse on it, it makes me too tired." He says, defensively.

What Scott does next surprises me, though I believe he made the right choice. He tries to convince Liam to bail out of the game. In all of Beacon High's history, I don't think a single werewolf has ever backed out of a sports game and Liam is definitely not going to be the first to break that chain.

Liam looks back and forth between Scott and I, then says "I can do it."

"Liam, you couldn't stay in control while just having a conversation with another team mate, how are you going to handle a lacrosse game?" Stiles asks.

"I can stay in control this time. You two can help." He says, addressing Scott and I. Then, turning to me he adds, "I can do it, especially if you're there."

Stiles rolls his eyes and groans as I struggle to hide the blood rushing to my cheeks.

"This isn't just about the game," I whisper out. "We're worried for you."

"We think whoever killed Demarco might be on our team." Scott says.

"Who's Demarco?" Liam asks. I turn to face Liam with hurt on my face. His tone was so.. obnoxious. As if Demarco was just an extra, or a nobody.

"He was the lifeless corpse I was protecting in the woods." I say, furrowing my brows.

"The one who brought the beer to the party," Stiles chimes, "The one who was beheaded."

"The one who was my close friend." I add, glaring at Stiles.

"We think the person who ordered the keg, killed Demarco." Scott suggests.

Suddenly, all the little clues and suspicions click together. The tattoo, the large amounts of cash- It was Garrett, it had to be!

"I don't know who ordered the keg," I admit, "But I know who paid for it. Garrett came into the shop awhile back and got a tattoo of a wolf head with the phrase The Dead Beasts, then he paid full in cash. The same day at the party, he paid Demarco for the keg, in cash again."


	13. Chapter 13: We Think We'll Die

_**Song of the chapter is a song a good friend of mine recommended a long time agoooo - Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros**_

_**Anybody else excited for the season premier as much as I am? It's on a full moon, how rad is that? **_

* * *

How can Garret be such a good actor? I had my doubts before, due to his tattoo and the money, but I never would have taken this handsome fifteen year old for an assassin.

How does he kill with a clean conscience? God knows how many good people I have known that have been ruined because they had to kill someone. What kind of daddy issues does this kid have? And he's definitely not smart enough to pull it all off on his own, it's that twig of a girlfriend that's working with him- no doubt.

(Seriously, being that thin has got to be unhealthy)

Stiles, Scott, Kira, Malia, Liam and I all sit together on the benches anxiously.

"Remind me again why we don't stop them before the game starts?" I ask, whispering loud enough for Stiles to hear.

Stiles listens carefully to what I say, then answers, "For once, I agree with her."

"Well, we can't" Scott replies, "We're still not really sure if it's him. If we do something wrong then the real assassin gets away."

"I think we have enough evidence," I point out. "I don't think we should be taking this risk."

"What should we do?" Scott asks me.

"I was about to ask you," I mumble. "Beats me. He hasn't been injured or mildly sick..." My speech fails when I spot Violet, Garret's girlfriend, standing across the field by the locker rooms, undoubtedly glaring at me. "But I do have an idea."

I stand abruptly and point at Liam, "You, come with me." He stares at me flabbergasted, until I grab him by the collar of his uniform and drag him away.

"Coach!" I cry out, he turns away from the freshman he was yelling at to see me, and his expression changes.

"Marina, what can I do for you?" He asks. The poor freshman uses this opportunity to run away behind the bleachers.

"We have an issue. Garret can't play today."

He stares at me, as if trying to determine what I was saying was even English, then laughs a wheezy and maniacal laugh.

"You're kidding, right?" He asks roughly.

"No. He's emotionally compromised. He caught his girlfriend cheating on him-" pointing to Liam, I add "With this kid. He's planning on using this game as revenge, he could seriously hurt someone."

He sighs and mumbles, "You're not kidding..."

"Listen, I might not be captain, but I think it's safe to say that if he's planning on hurting somebody, he should be sitting out this game." Scott runs up to us at this moment.

"She's right." He agrees, "Liam should sit out too."

"What?" Liam cries out, frustrated at Scott. I elbow Liam in the rib to shut him up.

"His leg's probably still bad." He adds. "One good hit from Garret and who knows what would happen to him."

"Liam plays," Coach says, declaring it a final matter. "And Garret plays too! It's Lacrosse for christsake, we could use a few rough players!" Scott returns to the bench with Liam. I ponder my thoughts for a moment, and looking back to the bench I smile on the inside at what I see. Stiles is on the phone, fretting about how his dad still isn't there, Malia stands with Stiles trying to calm him down. Liam slouches next him with his face buried in his hands, as if wondering how he managed to become wrapped in the middle of all this. Sitting a little farther away, Scott and Kira speak to each other in whispers, their faces centimeters apart. They lean in closer together and they're so intimate that I feel the need to look away.

Devonford's team is out on the field now, some players warming up and other's just stretching. Brett catches my eye and calls me over.

"This is going to be a fair game, right?" He asks, teasing me.

Seriously, I say, "Maybe not." I discretely try to point out Garret to Brett, with success. "See that kid?"

"Yeah," Brett answers. "What is he? A kitsune?" He jokes.

"No that's Kira," I answer truthfully. "Garret, on the other hand, might just be the assassin. I'm thinking it's him and his girlfriend, the skinny twig in the high heels."

"The girl over there?" He asks, pointing her out as she has a last minute makeout session with Garret.

As he takes his shirt off and changes into his gear, I scoff and say "What is it with boys? You all say you like curves but you always choose the ones you can throw far."

He laughs whole heartedly, which catches quite a few people's attentions, including Liam and Mason's.

I don't care much for whatever it is they're talking about, but Mason's heartbeat quickens slightly at the sight of a shirtless Brett.

"Quick, better put your gear on before you get cold," I say with a wink, walking off towards Liam.

"Hey boys," I say to both of them, then to Mason I add, "Liking the view?"

"How can you not?" He says. Realizing what he just admitted, he tries to cover it up by clearing his throat deeply.

"Dude, admit it, you think he's hot." Liam teases him.

Mason chuckles in agreement and I tease him, saying "He's single." He blushes awkwardly and I rest a hand on his shoulders.

"Mason, you don't have to worry about that around us." I reassure him.

I see my grandparents taking their seat on the bleachers. Waving my leave to Mason, I run over to them.

"OOOooh, Richard, look!" My grandma calls out, pointing at me. I grin and climb up the bleachers with all gear but my helmet on. As I approach them, a flash goes off and I realize my grandpa had taken a picture of me.

"Where'd you find this old thing?" I ask him, taking the Polaroid and inspecting it in my hands. A blank white square comes out of the camera and my grandpa takes it, wiggling it to get it to develop.

"It was in the attic," Grandma answered. "He went digging up there just to look for it."

"We have an attic?" I ask, taking a picture of both of them. I hand them the camera.

"Mmhmm, and I have a whole bunch of boxes I need you to help me sort out, okay?" He asks.

"Sure thing." I answer, excited.

"So, remind me how this game works," My grandpa insists, squinting through his spectacles at all the men running around the field. I say men because Devonford looks like their players are major league, like in their twenties. I hear him inaudibly whisper "What kind of steroids do you need to take to get that big at 17?"

"It's a lot like basketball and hockey," I answer. "Basically, the team with most points at the end of the game wins. There's four quarters, about 15 minutes each."

"And it's like basketball because it has face-offs," Grandma adds. "But the positions are more like football. You've got your centre, and in a traditional game the left and right wings are 20 yards from the centre but this'll probably be about 20 feet. It's like basketball because only the midfielders can run all across the field- that's centre and wings. The field lacrosse defenders always have to stay in the opposition's offensive zone, and the offensive players always stay in their offensive zone. Make sense?"

"No." He admits scratching his head.

"Defense has to stay by the goal they're defending, offense has to stay by the goal they're trying to score on. Only the people in the middle can move anywhere." I say shortly. He nods his head, but I get the feeling he still doesn't understand.

"Almost 75 years of sitting on your ass watching sports and you're telling me you've never once watched a lacrosse game?" Grandma teases him.

"I went to all your games!" He reminds her, raising his hands in the air. "But that was quite the while back. I'm afraid my memory is fading."

The ref blows a whistle, calling the first line to the field. I wave goodbye and meet Scott on the field, where first line huddles. Coach comes by to give us our game plan one more time, as if we haven't already memorized every detail.

"Quick adjustment. Garret takes left wing."

"What?" I ask, trying to keep my voice low.

"Marina, give the freshmen a chance to play. I want you to take net."

"No way." I answer.

"What was that Miss. Pond?" He asks, raising a hand to his ear.

"I'll take 3rd man." I say, quickly recovering. "Malia needs practice in goal."

"Good idea," He says. "But take point instead." I have to restraint myself from groaning. I hate playing point.

Scott takes his position in centre, Liam off 25 feet to his right and Garret off 25 to his left.

Behind them stands Stiles at 3rd man, behind him Kira at cover point, and relatively close to the goal is where I stand at point. Behind me is Malia in goal and three other freshmen are scattered about us.

I should be left of Scott, but Garret managed to coax Coach into switching positions with me, I just know it from the smug look on his bastard face.

Brett and Scott go head to head on the face-off, and because of his new powers Brett was quicker. Lee taught him well, and taught him to take advantage of his alarmingly heightened senses. It's like when you play a video game on a console and you can change the sensitivity levels via the controller. When you're first bitten, it's like your sensitivity is set on high and everything goes too fast for you to handle. With time, the sensitivity does not go down, but you get used to it and it you learn to adjust yourself. Brett's still at the stage where everything goes so fast, and in turn, he goes too fast for everybody else.

Liam's quite similar in that sensitivity aspect, except with him it's not so much speed, but strength. Scott started out like Brett and I started out like Liam.

The scrimmage is intense and Devonford's large men are too much for us weak public schoolers. Brett makes a breakaway past Scott, Liam and Garret. He get's passed Stiles and swerves around Kira. Behind his face mask he smirks a smug grin.

Not on my watch.

I head towards him and hoist my upper body into his abdomen in a tackle, sending him to the ground. I hear people cheer, including my grandparents, and even Keely sits on the bleachers with a smile on her face.

"What do you think you're doing?" I ask him, my mouth guard out.

"Get. Off. Me." He says through gritted teeth.

"I told you there's an assassin at this game looking to hunt one of us. You can't be using your powers like that, it's too dangerous!"

His eyes widen in fear and he's about to say something when someone hoists me off him. Popping my mouth guard back in, I see it was Garret who hoisted me up.

"You alright?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow as he raises the corner of his mouth in a smirk. I nod to him, distrusting his touch.

He turns and helps Brett up, who pops his mouth guard in to avoid saying anything.

Garret says, "Careful there, Brett. This one bites."


End file.
